


How to Save Your Brother from a Well-Meaning Mechanical Lion, Avoid Space Roofies, and Confess Your Big, Gay Crush: A Guide by Keith Kogane, (former?) Paladin of Voltron

by TheKnightOfHeart



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (guilty voice) it's plot relevant i swear!!, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Non-Consensual Drug Use, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon Temporary Character Death, Clubbing, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Gratuitous Descriptions of Clothing and Smells, Gratuitous Metaphors About Lance's Eyes and the Ocean, Illustrated Fic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Explicit Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Keith (Voltron), Post-Nut Guilt, Post-Voltron: Legendary Defender Season/Series 06, Rating May Change, Smitten Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith (Voltron), Spies & Secret Agents, Tags May Change, all of this is pretty minor btw but i just wanna be safe, anyways yeah keith is so far gone it's revolting, can't be one of MY fics without some of that!, dw it's just keith doin the two year skip, i made art for lance's outfits ;), shiro: i'm not dead yet!, that should be a tag tbh, that's not a tag but non-explicit sex is?? double standards smh, well he'd like to be ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnightOfHeart/pseuds/TheKnightOfHeart
Summary: So you think you're in love with your best friend/co-leader after two years of not seeing him except in your rose-tinted memories and visions of a strange, not-so-distant future...?Keith has a problem, and that problem is... Okay, actually, he has alotof problems right now, not one of which being trying to bring his kind-of-brother back from the dead or stopping the clone that stole his face and almost destroyed the team, but on a morepersonallevel, Keith just really needs to make sure that Lance doesn't die on this intelligence-gathering mission.(...Or gettoodistracted by the sight of Lance in thigh-high stripper boots.)
Relationships: Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Keith & Krolia (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Voltron Paladins, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 96
Kudos: 156





	1. Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> **Chapter title and opening lyrics taken from:** "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd
> 
>  **Translations, in order of appearance:**  
>  (Note: "Galran" is Russian, "Altean" is [mostly] Welsh. The spellings for the Welsh in the fic is inaccurate for ease of pronunciation. Both were taken from Google Translate and may be inaccurate. Please let me know if this is the case, and I will try to fix it.)  
>  _der'mo_ = дерьмо = shit  
>  _Uspokoysya, malen’kiy detenysh._ = Успокойся, маленький детеныш. = Calm (down), little cub/young.  
>  _morfil kefingwym_ = morfil cefngrwm = humpback whale (yeah, i didn't try very hard with this one. also i'm bad at making up names for things.)  
>  _Anhysbis Mau_ = anhysbys mawr = great unknown (or something to that effect)  
>  _Vechnyy_ = вечный = everlasting
> 
>  **A/N:**  
>  okay, phew, now that that's all done with, i'm free to ramble. this fic is the result of about 42 text messages sent to my best friend (how you put up with me babe i will never know...) and borne completely because i just wanted to see lance in thigh-high stripper boots and getting hit on by strangers and keith being THIS close to killing a man. i outlined it (a first for me!) and typed the first chapter (and part of the second) all last night in the span of about five hours. to say this idea has grabbed me and not let me go is a bit of an understatement. _this fic will be at least seven chapters long, with an optional eighth chapter_ that i might just post seperately so that i don't have to bump this fic's rating up to explicit ;)
> 
> i wanted to hold off on posting the first chapter till i had the second one done, but what can i say? i'm excited and very proud of how it turned out, and maybe with you guys being able to see it will be motivation enough for me to actually finish it! that's what happened with _tatb(ag)ilb_ , anyways. y'all really snatch my uwu's even several months after i finally finished it. <3 i'll try to post this is as often as i can, but please be patient!! i have a fair amount of free time to write, but i still have to work and try not to burn myself out too fast.
> 
> with all that being said, however, i love you guys a ton, and i hope you enjoy!!!!! **_reviews/comments/kudos are always, always seen by me and deeply appreciated!_**

> _So, so you think you can tell / Heaven from Hell? / Blue skies from pain / Can you tell a green field from a cold, steel rail? / A smile from a veil? / Do you think you can tell?_

The Castle was barely distinguishable from the distant void of space surrounding it when they received the transmission. It was accompanied by a pleasant little _ping!_ that didn’t fit the gamut of emotions churning in Keith’s stomach, but he shoved all that down and focused on the mission. He would have time for that later; right now, the team needed to know what Keith was transporting to the Castleship. Hands deceptively steady, he leaned over slightly and tapped the blinking button.

A familiar accent filtered through the ship’s tinny speakers. _“Attention, unidentified vessel! You are passing through restricted territory on heading with our vessel! If you wish to draw closer, please identify yourself and state your purpose or we will be forced to take defensive measures!”_

The Galran woman sitting next to him tensed and opened her mouth to ask a question, but Keith cut her off. “Coran! Coran, it’s Keith!” he said quickly, before the crazy Altean could start firing.

_“...Keith?”_

He rolled his eyes. “Number... _der’mo_... Number four? I think you called me?”

_“...”_

“The Paladin of the Red and then Black Lion!” he shouted impatiently.

_“Oh! Keith! Yes, yes, I remember you! How could I forget?”_

His mother shot him a look. Keith just sighed and shook his head slightly.

_“How’s Blade business going? Is that why you’re here?”_

“Not exactly. Where’s the rest of the team? I need to tell you guys some things. It’ll be easier face-to-face.”

_“The team? Oh, they’re busy preparing, but you’re free to come aboard and wait for them with me!”_

“Preparing?” Keith echoed quizzically. “What’re they preparing for?”

_“Number Two is going on a solo mission! Actually, it reminds me of when_ I _was still an active member of the Altean military. I had just--”_

Keith’s brain struggled to remember the height order Coran had assigned them back when the team was still freshly minted. “Wait, Number Two, isn’t that... Isn’t that Hunk?”

_“Goodness, no! Hunk is... Well, I suppose Hunk would be Number One, now, come to think of it…”_

Fear flashed through Keith. “Number-- Where’s Shiro?”

Silence.

“Coran, where’s Shiro?” His hands were clutching the joystick so tightly that he could feel the plastic-like material beginning to creak under his grip. His wolf pawed the door to the cockpit with a loud whine, perhaps sensing Keith’s distress through the door. Krolia tensed again. He could feel her concern burning into him, but he couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t _breathe_ , couldn’t-- _Shiro!_ Shiro was gone again, he--!

“Keith!” Krolia barked, her hand coming down on his shoulder and shaking it roughly. When Keith didn’t respond, she quickly pulled him into an awkward half-hug, stroking his hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. _“Uspokoysya, malen’kiy detenysh. Uspokoysya.”_

Unbidden, like Pavlov’s dog, Keith’s body began to relax. Panic still clung to his mind, but it no longer threatened to drown his words. “Coran,” he tried again, his voice breaking and uncaring about the show of weakness. “Where’s Shiro?”

_“He’s... I’m sorry, Keith, but the man we thought was Shiro was... a clone. He’s escaped now, but... without him, we have no way of bringing the real Shiro back.”_

“Back?” Keith echoed: desperate, hopeful. “You mean--?”

_“It’s too dangerous to discuss this over an unsecured comm. But yes, Allura believes she can bring the real Shiro back. There is hope, Number Three.”_

Keith let out a shaky sigh and hugged his mother back fiercely. “See, _malen’kiy detenysh?_ All is well.”

“For now,” he muttered, pulling away after another moment. He fixed her with a determined look, almost identical to the one _she_ wore so often, but with just enough of his father’s spark to make her heart ache in a familiar way. “But it won’t be if we can’t get Shiro back. Coran, get ready to let us in.”

_“Roger that, Number Four! Hangar Three is open for you, and I will be on my way down to greet you! By the way, is that... Is that an Altean pod you’re piloting?”_

“Tell you about that later,” Keith promised, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde-haired alien sitting awkwardly in the back seat, trying and failing to not look like she’d just eavesdropped on the whole conversation despite being told to stay quiet. “Keith out.”

He turned off the comms with another quick jab of a button and hesitated just long enough to let Krolia put her harness back on before hurtling towards the Castle.

He, admittedly, rushed the landing sequence a bit, but the only thing that suffered was Romelle’s head. Keith wasn’t worried, though: she had a very thick one. His wolf was already gone when he exited the ship, and he seemed to glare at Keith for the rough landing before disappearing in a shower of cosmic flurries, probably eager to explore her new surroundings. Keith knew he’d be fine and only distantly worried about Allura’s mice.

Coran, true to his word, was already waiting for them when Keith damn near _sprinted_ out of Hangar Three, Krolia hot on his heels and Romelle scrambling to follow, calling for them to “Slow down! What are you two, half Muskrine?!”

“Keith! Always good to see--”

“Tell me about Shiro,” Keith demanded, cutting off the cheery advisor with absolutely no guilt. Behind him, Krolia cleared her throat. He grimaced. “Please.”

Coran spared a glance at Krolia, frowned, but obviously decided that it wasn’t the time to ask questions. He’d almost opened his mouth to begin talking before Romelle finally caught up. Predictably, as soon as he saw her pointed ears and the blue markings under her eyes, his own turned the size of dinner plates.

“Altean!” he screeched, pointing at her. “That’s--! You’re--!”

“Yes, she’s Altean!” Keith shouted over Coran’s shocked rambling. “Coran, this is Romelle. We found her and a couple thousand other Alteans on a hidden colony in the Quantum Abyss; Romelle, this is Coran, he used to be the advisor to the Altean Royal Family before the war broke out, he was put in cryo-sleep for ten-thousand years and now he’s helping Voltron. I can tell you more later but for now: _Shiro.”_

Coran was still caught between gaping at Romelle - who looked equally curious about the Altean she’d never met before - and Keith, who was not-so-subtly fuming at him. “I--! You-- You can’t just--!”

“Yes, I can, and I did! Now _tell me where Shiro is, or I swear to god, I’ll--!”_

Krolia stepped between them. “Enough!” she roared. “This is getting us nowhere. Let’s get to the bridge and discuss the Altean colony on the way.”

“But--!” Keith tried to protest, but Krolia cut him off with an absolutely deadly glare. The two of them argued silently for a good fifteen seconds before Keith finally relented with a huff.

Krolia, thankfully, was much better at summarizing than Keith was. She explained how her and Keith had originally met during a Blade mission (he noticed she hadn’t revealed their familial connection and shot her a suspicious look that she either missed or purposefully didn’t react to), and then immediately left to look after a strange source of quintessence she’d discovered while on the original mission without telling the rest of the Blades. She mostly glossed over the trip through the Quantum Abyss, promising Coran more details about it later, and then told him all about the colony they’d found.

At this point, Romelle jumped in. She had obviously been dying to talk to Coran this whole time, and she knew more about the colony then either of them anyways. “It was formed in the first few centuries after the Great Destruction,” she said, entirely too excited for someone discussing the presumed genocide of an entire sentient species. “Alteans had been in hiding for a while, but a few of them found the colony and thought it’d be a good place to hide! So they went around and collected as many Alteans as they could and traveled through the Abyss on the backs of the _morfil kefingwym_ like Keith and Krolia did, and they set up our colony! It’s really amazing, Mister Coran, you should come see it sometime! There’s always a ton of sunlight because of all the collapsing neutron stars, and--!”

“Okay, are you satisfied now?” Keith finally interrupted, his patience snapping with an almost audible noise.

“Not really,” Coran answered honestly. Keith’s eye honest-to-god _twitched_. “But I’ll withhold the rest of my questions till later. For now…”

They finally breezed through the doors to the bridge, and in spite of his irritation and the lingering anxiety of not knowing what was going on with Shiro, Keith’s heart gave a familiar pang of… _something_. If he had to describe it, it was whatever the opposite of homesickness was. The feeling that you get when you come home after a long time spent away, and the simple, familiar ease of recognizing _exactly_ where you are.

_Isn’t it just called ‘coming home’?_ an equally familiar voice asked slyly. He could easily see the crooked, white-toothed grin that would accompany it as clearly as if the boy who owned it were standing right in front of him, but he shoved it away. He needed to focus on _Shiro_ , not pretty, witty, ocean-blues.

“Like I was saying over the comms, Number Three, the Shiro that you saved two months ago wasn’t the _real_ Shiro. He was a clone made by Haggar or one of her druids, and as far as we know, he was made to spy on and perhaps even undermine us. We didn’t find out until recently, when the clone - Punk has taken to calling him ‘Kuron’ for the sake of simplicity, and I--”

“Punk?” Keith questioned.

“Pidge and Hunk, of course! They’ve taken to calling themselves Punk. Not sure why. I suppose it makes sense as a combination of their name, but--”

Keith shook his head. “Okay, forget I asked! Kuron. Continue.”

“Three _quintants_ ago, he tried to destroy the ship with some sort of virus. Pidge was able to counteract it, but he escaped in the chaos. We have no idea where he is, now, but we need to capture him if we want to bring Shiro back.”

“Back from where? The dead? I thought you said--”

“His _body_ died,” Coran explained. “That pivotal fight with Zarkon indeed killed him, but before his soul could drift into _Anhysbis Mau_ , the--”

“The _what?”_

“Altean version of the afterlife,” Krolia cut in. “It’s almost identical to the _Vechnyy_ except for a few key differences.”

Keith nodded in understanding and looked back at Coran, nodding for him to continue. Coran looked a little miffed to be denied the chance to explain something by a seemingly complete stranger, but he cleared his throat and carried on. _“Right._ Well, like I was saying, the Black Lion was somehow able to capture Shiro’s soul and store it inside himself, where he would be safe from drifting into the... what did you call it, ‘afterlife’? So his real body was vaporized, but his soul is still safe.”

“So he could be brought back?”

“Precisely. The only problem is finding a body that would host him. See, a person’s being is split into three parts--”

“Coran,” Keith warned.

“This is important to understand!” Coran snapped, his eyebrow spasming comically. “Alteans, like humans, are split into three parts: the body, the soul, and the quintessence. All are separate, but all are equally important and extremely unique to the individual. If we tried to shove Shiro’s soul into any old body with any old quintessence in it, his soul would reject it immediately and immediately dissipate into _Anhysbis Mau_ or wherever it is you humans go when you die. And this time, I don’t think the Black Lion would be able to stop it from happening.”

Keith gulped, but Coran seemed to regain his spirits. “That’s why Kuron is actually a bit of a blessing in disguise! As an almost exact genetic replica of Shiro’s original body, his body and quintessence should work perfectly for Shiro’s soul!”

“Wait-- ‘Should’? As in, might not?”

The Altean at least had the decency to look slightly sheepish. “Yes, well, admittedly, all of this is theory. The Princess and Lotor have been researching every since Number Two brought up the idea, and she seems to think that it will work. But no one has ever tried transplanting someone’s soul before, mostly because there’s very few things or creatures who could store a soul after the body’s death anyways! I’m amazed that even something as powerful as a component of Voltron was able to--”

“We’re risking Shiro’s life on a _maybe?!”_

And just like that, the hope Keith had been feeling was stripped away once again. Just when he’d thought he’d _finally_ be able to see his brother again, no Galra tricks or homicidal clones, he found out that _no_ , this too might result in losing his brother forever.

Tears stung his eyes. Krolia began to approach again, but he resisted her hand on his back. “You said we could save him!”

“We could!” Coran protested. “There’s a very real chance this could work!”

“No,” Keith croaked. “No. No, it won’t. I know it won’t.” Good things _didn’t happen_ to Keith. They always came with a terrible price. If they attempted this, he just _knew_ the universe would just find another way to tear everything away again.

“Why not?” Krolia asked softly. “Keith, this one’s theory is solid. I know a little bit about quintessence and how it interacts with the body, and everything he said is true. I know it’s risky, but what other option do you-- do _we_ have?”

Keith was silent.

“You don’t have to decide now. We still have time to think this through.”

“Exactly!” Coran piped up. “Our resident alchemists wouldn’t be ready to do it immediately, and we still don’t know where Kuron is.”

“You have time, _malen’kiy detenysh,”_ Krolia repeated. She paused and drew closer, her voice dropping to the barest whisper so the Alteans couldn’t hear. “And you are not alone. Not anymore.”

A small _ping!_ interrupted all of them before Keith could finish blinking away his tears. Coran jolted slightly and hurried over to one of the consoles circling the bridge, pulling up what looked to be an intercom. “Yes?”

_“I was checking the Castle scanners, it says there’s a ship in Hangar--”_

“Pidge!” Keith choked out.

_“...Keith? I-is that--?”_

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here for-- It’s a long story.” He stumbled forward. “Shiro. Is it true that he’s…?”

A small sigh. _“Yeah. I’m sorry, Keith. We tried to tell you as soon as we found out, but Kolivan wouldn’t let us talk to you.”_

Keith laughed bitterly. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” He looked over his shoulder at Krolia, who was hovering nearby. He almost scowled at the overt concern she was showing. He wasn’t a _baby_. (Even if he kept sniffling like one.) “Did we ever tell him we were back?”

Her lips twitched into an almost sheepish frown. “It... may have slipped my mind,” she admitted.

“Tell him to piss off,” Keith told her firmly. “I’m done with the Blade.”

_“For good?”_ Pidge asked suddenly. If Keith’s ears weren’t deceiving him, she sounded almost... hopeful.

Keith looked around at the Castle’s bridge. His eyes lingered on the Paladin’s chairs, and even dormant and void of their usual occupants, he could easily imagine the team looking back at him. The Paladins of Voltron, with him as their leader. Like it always should’ve been, like it almost was now, and like it would be when Shiro was here too. Like _home_.

“Yes,” he decided. There was no hesitation or room for argument. He had missed this place like he’d never missed anywhere else before, not even the worn, two-storey house in the middle of the desert with his dad and a piecemeal radio playing rock songs older than the rough-hewn granite foundation.

Krolia nodded and took out her communicator. A few seconds later, it buzzed quietly, and she cracked the smallest of smiles. “He’s not happy,” she reported. “And he still wants to know where we were.”

“He can wait. Right now, we’ve got a clone to find.”


	2. Emperor's New Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So your big, gay crush is more beautiful than you remember him being and is three seconds away from catching you drooling...?_
> 
> (Or: Keith meets up with the rest of the team, and not even Lotor being there and being all lovey-dovey with Allura is enough to keep him from dying a little when he finally comes face-to-face with the Paladin he's been dreading/dreaming about seeing ever since he left.)

> _Sycophants on velvet sofas / Lavish mansions, vintage wine / I am so much more than royal / Snatch your chain and mace your eyes / If it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine / Heroes always get remembered / But you know legends never die_

Coran led them out of the bridge and down to a part of the Castle Keith had never really been in before. That wasn’t not saying much, considering the size of the ship, but Keith had done his fair share of late-night wandering, and he was pretty sure he’d never come across what basically amounted to a department store just a few floors below the Paladins’ rooms.

The sheer size of the room they were in almost made Keith dizzy. It was at least two storeys, with a main room filled with rows upon rows of clothing of all shapes and sizes and colors and styles, and two grand staircases leading up to a slightly smaller balcony that seemed to house even _more_ clothing. There was even music playing over hidden intercoms, and Keith recognized it as some top-40’s nonsense that was probably popular at the turn of the century. He could only think of one person responsible for that, and the thought of him made Keith’s stomach flip, even though he didn’t spot the long-limbed Paladin right away.

He did, however, see Pidge and Hunk. They were perched on a circular couch set into the floor in the center of the room - not unlike the ones in the lounges - and talking seriously as they both frowned down at their tablets. Pidge looked up as soon as she heard their footsteps over some woman crooning about a boy eating someone’s heart like breakfast cereal, and the grin that split her face made Keith’s own smile make its first appearance.

“Keith!” She cried, launching her tablet to the side (thankfully, it got caught by the couch cushions and bounced, relatively unharmed, to the floor) and sprinting towards him. He braced himself, and the Green Paladin slammed into him with enough force to make him take a small step back.

For being about ninety-three pounds soaking wet, Pidge packed a surprising amount of force into her bony arms. She barely gave him enough time to hug back, however, before she let go and stepped away to look up at him. Her grin faltered for a moment, and Keith winced. Shit. Had she already noticed…?

She was interrupted by Hunk, who had started scrambling over as soon as Pidge shot off like a bat out of hell. “Keith!” He yelled, his arms already open for a hug. He was also already crying. Keith felt oddly touched, even if the boy was well-known for his emotional displays. “I missed you so much, man!”

“I missed you too, big guy,” Keith wheezed, letting Hunk physically pick him up and swing him around a bit. He deserved a good hug after everything Keith had put him through, even if Keith’s bones popped rather painfully at the force of his affection.

After a moment, Hunk let him go. “You look... different,” Pidge noted before he could speak up. A hand reached up to adjust her glasses, and she squinted severely at his face. “You look older, actually.”

Keith sighed. No point in hiding it. “That’s because I am.”

“No, I don’t mean older as in ‘oh, it’s been a few months’, I mean you look _significantly--”_

_“I know._ While I was on a mission for the Blade, I got pulled into a part of space where time worked strangely. Outside, probably only a few weeks passed. But inside, it was something more like two years. I’ll tell you more later, okay?”

Pidge’s eyes went wide. “Holy fuck.”

“Holy _quiznak!”_ Hunk exclaimed at the same time.

“Language!” Coran chided. “Paladins shouldn’t cuss.” He looked over at Keith and squinted. “But now that they mention it... I suppose you _do_ look older.”

“Coran, I literally _told_ you all this already.”

“Oh, so you told Coran but not _me?”_ Pidge accused.

Keith threw his hands up. “We didn’t have a terribly long conversation, Pidge! You didn’t even notice I was here until ten minutes in!”

“Guys, you know what this means?” Hunk asked excitedly, cutting any further arguments off.

“No, what?”

“Keith, you’d be, like, twenty right now, right?”

“Um, I think I’d be twenty-one, actually, depending on what month it is on Earth. Why?”

“He’s old enough for space liquor!” Hunk cheered. “We found this out yesterday, but apparently the legal age in the Galra Empire is nineteen. Who knew?”

“Still too young, both of you,” Coran reminded them immediately. “Number One, you’re still a few dozen _quintants_ away, and Number Five, you’ve got _deca-pheobs_ to go!”

“Don’t remind me,” Pidge grumbled. “Besides, that was _one_ time, and I didn’t even _know_ it was alcoholic!”

“Pidge, you tried drinking?” Keith asked before he could shove his brotherly(?) instincts down.

_“On accident!_ They didn’t have _labels_ , okay, how was I supposed to know it was basically space moonshine?!”

“Well, Coran _did_ tell us--” Hunk started hesitantly.

“He said _some_ of the drinks were alcoholic, he didn’t say anything about _which ones--”_

“I hate to cut this off, but Keith, are you going to introduce us?” Krolia asked pointedly.

Hunk and Pidge jumped, having obviously not seen her hovering nearby. Considering she was half a foot taller than all of them and bright purple, Keith had no idea how they’d missed her. He supposed he was oddly flattered that they’d been so preoccupied with greeting _him_.

“Who’s she?” Pidge asked, reliably blunt.

“This is Krolia,” Keith said. She nodded in greeting but didn’t smile; not that Keith had expected her to. “She’s a Blade operative. I met her while on one of my missions.”

He watched their eyes slide between his face and Krolia’s and wondered who would crack first and ask if they were related. Coran probably hadn’t even realized, but Keith chalked that up to his obliviousness, not a lack of resemblance between them. In fact, there was no denying the fact that Keith and Krolia were related. Keith was a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t realized it, but to be fair to himself, he’d had more pressing issues to worry about at the time.

He could see the realization dawning in their eyes barely three seconds later, but after exchanging a quick look, neither of them made any move to mention it. They did, however, look like they were on the verge of bursting out laughing.

“What?” Keith asked, perhaps a bit defensive.

“Nothing,” they blurted in unison.

“So, uh, Miss Krolia!” Hunk said. “How’d you join the Blade?”

Krolia looked taken aback. Keith wasn’t sure if it was because of the honorific Hunk had used or the fairly invasive question. “I... was brought up in a soldier’s family and joined the Galran army young,” she began hesitantly. “But I quickly became disillusioned with the atrocities I was committing and was approached by an undercover Blade member, asking me if I was interested in making a real difference in the Galra Empire, one that wouldn’t result in so much wanton death and destruction. The rest is, as you humans say, history.”

“Ever make any... trips around the Milky Way?” Pidge asked, trying and failing to be sly.

Krolia’s lips twitched, threatening to break into a smile. “Can’t say I have,” she lied smoothly. She was obviously having fun with this, and Keith just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes and giving her away. He’d let her have her fun - for now.

Pidge squinted at her, obviously suspicious.

Keith groaned. “Can we save the interrogation for later?” he asked impatiently. “Where’s the rest of the team? And Coran said something about Lotor being here too? I thought you guys had... I don’t know, killed him or something? Since when are we on such friendly terms with him?”

Pidge shrugged. “I don’t know. But he and the Princess have gotten pretty tight recently. I guess he’s not that bad? He joined us for Monsters and Mana, even if he was making goo-goo eyes at Allura the whole time and Lance looked like he was ready to strangle him.”

Keith hated how his heart gave a particularly hard beat at the mention of the Blue-turned-Red Paladin. “Why’s that?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. To the rest of them, he probably did, but he could see Krolia give him a small, knowing smirk. He blushed and ignored her.

Pidge also gave him a look, though this one was obviously more exasperated. “Uh, because he’s jealous?” she said slowly, as if Keith was a toddler. “Come on, Keith, I know you’re oblivious but you can’t be _that_ oblivious.”

“I’m not!” Keith snapped. “But he... before I left, he stopped flirting so much. I’d assumed he’d finally gotten the message and given up.”

“So did we,” Hunk sighed, “but I guess not. As soon as you left, he started it right back up. I guess his crush on Allura is, like, _serious_. Which is weird, cause usually he tells me when his crushes are serious. Or, like, it’s obvious to everyone except for him. And maybe the person he’s crushing on.”

For some reason, he leveled Keith with a look, but its significance and implications were lost on him, and he simply raised an eyebrow back. Hunk sighed again and rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

Pidge jumped in. “The point is, Lance is jealous, Lotura is a thing now--” At Keith’s confused look she groaned and added, “That’s their names combined together, like a ship name. Keep up, Kogane. Lotura’s a thing, and now, in more important matters, we’re--” She froze. “There’s an Altean behind you.”

Keith half-turned and caught Romelle looking relieved that someone had _finally_ noticed her. “Oh, yeah,” he said. He’d kind of forgotten she was there, honestly, since she was being so uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe it was being in such a huge, strange place. “This is Romelle. We found her on when we accidentally crash-landed on her colony.”

“There’s a colony with Alteans in it?” Hunk asked, his eyes darting over to Coran. “But aren’t they--”

“We thought so, yes, but only because it’s so remarkably well-hidden!” the mustachioed Coran jumped in. “According to Romelle and Keith, it’s in the middle of a quantum abyss, a place with a high concentration of unstable neutron stars that bend space-time around them, thus creating irregularities in the flow of time and, indeed, the distance between different bodies of mass!”

Keith could see the excitement growing in Pidge and Hunk’s eyes. “That’s incredible!” Hunk shouted.

“But how-- No scientific equipment would be able to navigate something like that!” Pidge pointed out quickly. Her eyes jumped between Keith, Krolia, and Romelle. “I mean, Keith’s a really good pilot, but not even the best pilot in the _universe_ would be able to find a path through there safely! The different gravitational fields of each star alone would be enough to knock even one of the _Lions_ out of their flight path, regardless of how careful you were trying to be! It would be impossible to--”

“Space whale,” Keith interrupted.

“What?”

“There was a space whale,” Keith explained in a rush, for what felt like the billionth time since coming back. “Romelle knows the scientific name for it, but it was the size of a small moon and could somehow make its own breathable atmosphere with a gravitational force of about 1G, even had a little ecosystem of flora and some fauna. We rode on that. Now can we _please_ focus on Shiro and Kuron? Coran said you have a plan to find him and bring Shiro back. Walk me through it. I want to help.”

“...Okay,” Hunk said, obviously reluctant to let go of the idea of quantum abysses and space whales. Thankfully, unlike _some_ people (cough CORAN cough), he sensed Keith’s impatience and was willing to move on quickly. “You remember what happened in the Karthulian System?”

Keith shivered at the memories of the hellish training planets and the quest for the Yalaxian Pearl to save Coran’s life, only to realize that that too had been part of the training. He was _still_ a bit angry about being tricked, but he guessed that it had been a useful experience. The volcanic planet he and Red had trained on had been a really cool and challenging exercise, at least. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, the Kythilian Mu that Coran is friends with has been helping out the Coalition for a while and heard about what happened with Kuron. Not all the details, of course, but he knew that we were on the lookout for him. He knows a lot of… less-than-savory people. But a lot of those people also know about all the people who come and go, so he’s been keeping track of any human men traveling alone through Coalition and Galra territory, heading towards the active war zones where Haggar is. And yesterday, he says one of his contacts found a hit.”

Keith perked up. “So we know where Kuron is?”

“Not exactly. We know where _someone_ who knows where Kuron is. And normally we’d ask for more details before diving in, but we need to catch Kuron before he can get to Haggar. After that, he might be too well-protected to get to.”

“And our plan of bringing Shiro back?”

“Delayed, temporarily,” Coran assured. “There doesn’t seem to be any long-term effects on Shiro’s soul from being in the Black Lion, but it’s hard to get readings on him amongst Black’s huge energy reserves and background consciousness.”

Keith nodded and looked back at Hunk and Pidge. “So what’s the plan, exactly?”

“Well, Lance suggested it,” Hunk started. “We need to talk to this dude: Daarvus Jolt.”

Pidge tapped around on her tablet for a second and pulled up a mugshot for a handsome, green-skinned alien with four eyes and a sleazy, vampire-fanged smile.

“Problem is, he’s apparently the type to bolt as soon as law enforcement or Coalition people show up,” Hunk continued. “And since all of us are pretty well-known because of the Voltron Show, he’d no doubt do the same whenever we tried to ask him about Kuron. Or, worse, he could realize how desperate we are and try blackmailing or selling us out to Haggar.”

“In other words, he’s a dick.” Pidge ignored the look Coran shot her. “But, there’s hope! See, Jolt here’s also a huge man-whore. Can’t resist a pretty face. So if one of us went undercover and did some schmoozing, he might tell us everything we need to know, and we’d be able to start hunting down Kuron ourselves.”

She swiped the tablet screen, and the mugshot was replaced with an exterior shot of what was obviously an alien night club: industrial aesthetic, glaringly bright neon lights, and a long line of people waiting to get inside. One section of the photo had been enlarged and focused: sure enough, it was Daarvus Jolt, two scantily-dressed aliens under each arm, being ushered inside with no regard to all the other people waiting in line behind him.

“He comes to this club at least once a week to look for a new squeeze. Or _squeezes_ ; he’s not very exclusive,” Pidge noted with a slight wrinkle of her nose. “We figure that if our ‘agent’”— for some reason, she used air quotes and rolled her eyes —“approaches him while he’s looking for his next lay, he’ll be able to ask about Kuron without Jolt running away as soon as he sees him.”

“Who’re you sending in?” Keith asked, but part of him already knew the answer. Who was the second-tallest on the team, good at acting (when he wanted to be, anyways), and had a tongue smooth enough to soothe almost anyone’s ruffled feathers?

“Lance,” Hunk confirmed. “He’s the only one who really wanted to go.”

“Of course,” Keith huffed, mostly to himself. “Can’t pass up the chance to flirt and be in the space equivalent of a night club.”

Hunk and Pidge smiled slightly and didn’t deny that they also thought that was exactly why Lance had agreed. “So where’s Lance now?” Keith asked, once again trying to hide how much he wanted to see the other.

Pidge pointed to the second level of the department-store-esque room. “There’s some changing rooms and” - she shuddered -“ _lingerie_ up there. Last I saw, he was browsing up there for the ‘perfect clubbing outfit’. I think Allura and Lotor went up to help.”

Keith nodded and paused for a moment before asking, “And how long ago was that?”

“Like… two _vargas_ ago?”

“You should probably go up to check if Lance started a fight with Lotor,” Hunk sniggered. “I don’t know why he insisted on helping.”

“Probably just wanted to stare at the Princess,” Pidge suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah, Lance isn’t gonna like that.”

Suddenly annoyed at all this talk of Lance and his jealousy ( _welcome to Keith’s world, asshole_ ), Keith pivoted with military sharpness and began walking up the stairs. He heard Pidge and Hunk calling after him, asking what he was doing, but he didn’t care. His only thoughts were ocean blue eyes and dramatic hand gestures and crooked, perfect smiles.

It wasn’t hard to find the changing rooms, seeing as it was just thirty feet away from the stairs. Three large, free-standing stalls were draped in heavy, dark blue curtains with what looked like glitter or silver or something nonetheless shiny weaved into it. A few cushioned benches and a low table were set up in front of the rooms, and it was on these benches that Keith found Allura and the current Galran Emperor sitting close - _very_ close - together, their heads bent over a tablet and discussing something softly but seriously. It was almost nauseating how flirty they were being, and a part of Keith stewed with jealousy.

Not because he had romantic feelings for either of them, like Lance did - he was gay, for one, and he still didn’t trust Lotor, even if the rest of the team seemed to, for another - but because as stupid as it was, for as much as he still struggled to believe he deserved it, Keith _wanted_ that.

He wanted to openly show his affection for other people and have them show it back, and he wanted just _one_ of his crushes to end in something other than humiliation or heartbreak or (like this one on Lance would) never-ending pining and jealousy. He wanted to love someone _romantically_ and have them love him _romantically_ back. Because Lance being his friend and his teammate and right-hand-man just wasn’t enough for his selfish, stupid heart anymore.

Keith cleared his throat loudly when it became obvious that neither of them was cognisant enough to realize he was there. They jumped apart guiltily and spun around to face him, twin looks of embarrassment at being caught practically in one another’s lap.

Allura recovered first, her dark cheeks made darker by her blush and her pink markings glowing brightly. “K-Keith!” she exclaimed, and she stood quickly, brushing invisible dust off her usual dress. “How lovely to see you again! I wasn’t aware you were visiting.”

“I’m not,” Keith said. “I’m here to stay.”

She blinked, then beamed. “That’s terrific! Oh, Keith—! I know you’re not much for hugs, but could you…?” She spread her arms hopefully.

He blushed a bit and half-raised his arms. With a squeal, Allura lunged forward and grabbed him in a rib-popping hug, making up for his lack of enthusiasm with plenty of her own. One quick spin, and he was set back on the floor. Unbidden, he switched his gaze to Lotor, wary.

“Don’t expect me to greet you like that,” the Prince-turned-Emperor said with the hint of a smirk on his sly lips.

“I wasn’t,” Keith damn near growled. “So, last time I saw you, you were trying to kill everyone. Where you at these days?”

“It varies from moment-to-moment,” Lotor replied smoothly.

“Lotor!” Allura hissed sharply. She looked at Keith with an apologetic look. “He’s joking. _Right_ , Lotor?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “I am joking.” He stepped forward and held out his forearm for Keith to grasp, a traditionally Galran way of greeting an equal for the first time. “It’s good to see you again, former Black Paladin; though I assume you will be refilling the position again now.”

“If Black and the team still accept me,” Keith replied tersely. Still, he forced himself to grab Lotor’s arm and hold it for the few seconds their almost-handshake required. Krolia would be proud of him.

Stepping back, he looked over at the changing rooms, suddenly nervous. “Is Lance…?” He couldn’t finish his sentence for some reason.

“Yes, I believe he is,” Allura answered, thankfully able to understand his unspoken question. “The one on the right, but you should probably ring the bell first in case he’s… _indecent.”_ The blush on her cheeks made Keith think that she’d already made the mistake of not announcing her presence before she went in, and the thought made Keith sick with jealousy.

He shoved it down. She wasn’t interested in him like that, and Keith shouldn’t be either.

He walked over to the stall she’d indicated and looked for some sort of solid surface to knock on or bell to ring. Eventually, he found a small, golden tassel hanging near the corner of the stall. On a whim, he tugged it, and on the other side of the fabric, he could hear a muffled ringing.

“One second!” a familiar, sun-stained voice called.

Immediately, Keith’s palms began to sweat. He got the irrational urge to fix his hair. Was his breath fresh enough? There weren’t such things as toothbrushes in space, but a lot of civilizations had invented a gum-like substance that cleaned the teeth and made one’s breath smell fresh for the rest of the day. When was the last time Keith had chewed some? It wasn’t like the space whale had had a dentist’s office or convenience store to buy toothpaste-gum; he and Krolia had mostly just gargled salt water after every meal and picked food out of their teeth with their nails and called it a day.

Before Keith could finish pondering his dental hygiene or stop panicking long enough to wipe his palms off on his Blade suit, the curtain billowed open. There, standing behind it, was the man of Keith’s dreams: the pleasant ones that left his chest warm and thoughts soft, the white-hot and risqué ones that left the crotch of his suit uncomfortably tight or, worse, sticky, and the infrequent but stubbornly terrifying ones that left him breathless and shaking in a bad way.

_He’s shorter than me,_ Keith thought. It was barely more than a few inches, but with less than a foot between them ( _why had he thought it was a good idea to stand so close to the curtain?_ ), it was enough that Lance’s (beautiful, indescribable, wide-with-shock) eyes had to look up just the barest bit because now he was eye-level with Keith’s chin.

“You got a haircut,” Keith blurted.

“You got older,” Lance croaked.

“Got stuck on a space whale for two years,” Keith explained faintly.

His eyes flickered from Lance’s nose (still dusted with dark constellations of freckles) to the shaved parts of Lance’s undercut (he wasn’t sure he could handle how it showed off his long neck) to the bed of curls left just a tad shorter than Keith remembered (he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from doing something foolish like run his fingers through it to see if it really _was_ as soft as it looked). Thankfully for Keith’s sanity, he was still decent, wearing a robe not unlike the one he wore as part of his pajamas. Not-so-thankfully, the robe ended about Lance’s mid-thigh and the front was drooping open, revealing the sharp jut of his collarbones, the bulge of his pecs (which looked a bit more developed than the last time Keith had seen them), and the barest peek at a dark, perky nipple.

Lance’s thin eyebrows furrowed over still-confused eyes, drawing Keith’s gaze away from his chest before it could cause problems. His eyelashes were short but thick, and looking down ( _I have to look_ down, Keith thought almost giddily) at the eyes they framed, he suddenly remembered how Lance’s eyes seemed to change colors, ever so slightly, based on his moods. They were like the ocean like that, though Keith had only seen Earth’s ocean in pictures and heard Lance’s stories about its many moods. Right now, his eyes were clear and bright and sparkling, like the surface of the water on a clear, summer day.

Lance’s lips (still as soft-looking and tempting as ever) moved, and Keith realized a second later that he was supposed to be listening to what the pretty boy was saying. “What?” he asked dumbly.

“I said it’s only been a few months since I last saw you, how could you have aged that much?”

“Time was weird,” he said with a shrug. It was hard not to stare. Because that’s what he was doing. He was staring, and Lance would probably get uncomfortable soon.

Lance’s mouth moved again, and Keith forced himself to listen right away so he didn’t have to keep repeating. “Isn’t it always. Did you hear about…?”

“Coran and Punk filled me in. That’s why I came up here.”

“You want to help me pick out a clubbing outfit?” Lance asked, sounding a bit dubious. He crossed his arms, cutting off part of the view. Keith could’ve whined at the loss. As it was, he was too distracted by the way Lance’s eyes dragged up and down his body, stopping on his face to raise a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” Keith admitted. “I just... wanted to tell you that I was back. And to check that you hadn’t gotten lost in all these clothes. Seriously, why are there so many?”

Lance straightened, excited. Now, his eyes were the color of sapphires. “It’s great, right? I wish Coran had told us about this place sooner! Who needs the space mall when we have all of the clothes that used to belong to Altean nobility?”

“Seriously? That’s what all this is?”

“Yeah! I guess the nobility complained that the individual closets weren’t big enough for all their fancy clothes, so Coran’s grandpa converted some unused storage rooms into this huge, communal closet to store everything! I don’t know why it looks so much like a department store, but I guess that was unintentional.”

“Yeah.”

They trailed off awkwardly. It suddenly struck Keith that he was still practically looming over Lance, who was naked except for a dressing gown, and that Lance’s cheeks seemed to be turning scarlet, unable to keep eye contact with the former Blade. Keith stepped back quickly as soon as he realized this and felt his own cheeks beginning to turn red. Lance finally looked at him, a bit startled at his sudden movement, but he simply frowned and didn’t say anything. For some reason, that disappointed Keith, but he immediately chided himself. What had he been expecting, for Lance to pull him into the changing room by his belt, tug off that stupidly thin robe, bend over a bench, and let Keith fuck him into next year?

God, he shouldn’t have thought that, now he was imagining Lance bent over, bouncing his tight, little ass on Keith’s throbbing--

“Oh, Lance!” Allura called from behind Keith, who was quickly growing hot and bothered. “Did you find anything yet?”

Lance looked over Keith’s shoulder and seemed to meet Allura’s eyes. He smiled slightly, and Keith could see the soft edges to it, the kind reserved for a crush. His heart chipped a little, even though he felt vindicated by the sight. Maybe seeing Lance pining after Allura would finally convince his stupid heart to let go of the love it could never have. Keith was better off alone, after all.

“Yeah, I’ve got three potential outfits. Let me get changed, and I can show them off for you!”

“Do you want me to get the others?”

“Nah, they’re probably busy trying to figure out the semantics of the plan and stuff. Besides, they don’t know much about fashion. Not like you or me, Lura.”

Allura laughed quietly. “That’s true! Keith, do you want to come sit with us?”

Keith nodded and turned away quickly, thankful for the distraction. Hopefully sitting next to Allura and Lotor would be enough to discourage his dick from getting any more lewd ideas. He heard the curtains swish shut behind him, and he sat down on the bench a few inches away from Allura.

They made a bit of small-talk as they waited for Lance. Allura asked about the Blade and his most recent mission, and Keith filled her in on meeting Krolia, discovering the Quantum Abyss, and finding the Altean colony. Predictably, Allura went ballistic and immediately ran over to the stairs to check if Keith was pulling her leg. Surprisingly enough, Lotor was just as eager to see Romelle and actually called for the girl to come upstairs so they could properly meet her.

After that, they kind of forgot Keith was there, which was fine by him. He didn’t like being the center of attention and conversation anyways, but Romelle was clearly _loving_ it, even if she’d been extremely wary of Lotor at first. By the time Lance made his reappearance, Romelle and Allura seemed to have become best friends, or, at the very least, were well on their way to being such.

Keith was the first one to realize Lance had emerged from the changing room. His ears had been straining to hear any sounds from his direction, but between the curtains muffling seemingly everything to the strangest degree and the excited chattering of the Alteans, he couldn’t hear anything until Lance finally pulled back the curtain with his signature brand of dramatic flair.

“Behold!” he exclaimed to grab everybody except for Keith’s attention - _Keith_ was already gaping. “Outfit number one. I call this one ‘Neat and Tidy’.”

That was a pretty good description of it, if Keith was being honest. He’d chosen a simple, cobalt-blue button up with the sleeves cuffed at the elbows and a hint of his chest peeking out from the partially-unbuttoned top. His pants were skinny jeans, like the kind he wore when he was lounging around the Castle, but these jeans were dark blue, almost black, and were so tight they almost looked like someone had just _painted_ Lance’s legs to look like they were wearing pants (Keith had seen a really old Buzzfeed video about that once when he was on one of his late-night YouTube binges). To top it all off, he’d found a pair of yellow Converse, or whatever the alien version of Converse was.

Hooking his thumbs through the belt-loops of his sinfully-tight pants, Lance settled his weight on one hip and smirked at his four-person audience. “What do you think?” He turned slowly so they could see his outfit from all angles, his hips swaying hypnotically, and Keith clenched his fists so hard he could feel the leather-like material of his gloves creaking.

“Looks good!” Allura said. “Though, I don’t think it’s exactly what we’re going for. This club is hardly the most proper place, Lance, and I don’t think Daarvus would be terribly interested in a sharp-dressed young man like you.”

Lance slumped dramatically and pouted. _“Fine._ I guess you’re right.” He brightened quickly and darted back to the changing room. “Onto the next outfit!”

Conversation resumed between Allura, Lotor, and Romelle like it’d never stopped. Only Keith was left to wonder if he’d be able to _survive_ Lance’s next outfit, or if he’d be unable to resist jumping Lance’s bones or, worse, popping a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a completely platonic outfit judging for a potentially dangerous undercover mission.

Lance emerged quicker this time. He announced himself with similar gusto and declared that this outfit was called “Bad Boys Do It Better (Except for Keith.)” He’d punctuated the long-ass name with a wink in Keith’s direction that had almost made him fall off the bench. Thankfully, Lance was too busy modeling and the others too busy _ooo_ -ing and _aaa_ -ing to notice.

This outfit reminded Keith of a 1950’s greaser: tight, black pants almost identical to the ones Lance had been wearing before (though, judging by the way they shined in the light, these were more like leather than denim); a studded black belt with a shiny, silver buckle that seemed to have some sort of design etched in it; a white wifebeater; and a black motorcycle jacket with a couple pins fastened to the triangular lapels. With his cocky grin and hands shoved in the pockets, all Lance was missing to complete his “bad boy” aesthetic was a cigarette hanging from his lips.

_“Sozdatel, day mne sily,”_ Keith whispered under his breath, earning a curious glance from Romelle before she looked away again.

“It’s certainly a departure from your usual style,” Lotor mused. “But, Princess, correct me if I’m wrong, this Jolt character is already a bit of a ‘bad boy’ already? I’m hesitant to think that he’d be attracted to his own kind.”

“Maybe he is. He could be extremely narcissistic!” Romelle pointed out.

Lance let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Hey, I like her!” He swaggered forward and held out his hand. “Name’s Lance, pretty lady.” He winked, and Keith seethed with barely-contained rage barely a foot away.

Romelle grabbed his hand and must’ve given him a hell of a handshake, because Lance’s eyes bugged out with pain. “I’m Romelle! I’m from a hidden Altean colony. Keith found me!”

Lance jerked his hand back from her iron grasp and clutched it with his uninjured hand. Shaking it out a bit, he looked over at Keith curiously. “So you weren’t making up that whole abyss thingy, were you?”

“Why would I?” Keith shot back, a small smile playing at his lips.

Lance studied his face for a moment. What he was looking for, Keith wasn’t sure, but it made his cheeks flush a bit. “Don’t know,” he finally said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and thoughtful.

For just a second, Keith felt like he and Lance were the only ones in the entire universe. Which was ridiculous because not only were there three other people less than a foot away, staring at them and probably wondering what the hell was going on, but they also weren’t _doing_ anything particularly romantic or special. They were just _looking_ at each other: Lance looking like he saw right through Keith’s white-hot skin to his soul (or something equally corny like that), and Keith trying to figure out what was hiding behind his deep blue eyes, swirling like sand on the ocean floor. Something glinted for just a second, like a pearl being revealed by the tumultuous silt, but Lance blinked and looked away before Keith could figure out what it was supposed to be.

“So, a solid ‘no’ to the second outfit,” Lance said, shoving his hands back into his jacket pockets. “Which is a shame, cause I was really digging the jacket.” He looked down at it and moved his hands to stretch the jacket this way and that. “Allura, what’re the chances you let me keep it?”

“I’d put them very solidly in your favor,” Allura chuckled. “The owners of these clothes are, after all, long gone. I was actually debating just getting rid of or donating all them to the war effort, but I kept getting distracted by more important matters. I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t, huh?”

“I’ll say,” Lance agreed with a crooked grin. “Well, tell you what, after this mission, when we’re on the way to kick--” Allura gave him a warning look, and he faltered. “Er, yeah, I guess we don’t want to kick his ass if it’s gonna become Shiro’s ass later... When we’re on our way to _capture_ Kuron’s ass, then, I’ll take a few _vargas_ to pick out what I want to keep, and then we can donate the rest.” He paused, and glanced over at Keith, his grin turning into just the barest hint of a smirk. “And maybe the other Paladins can do the same because I think _some of them_ are in desperate need of a new wardrobe.”

Keith rolled his eyes but didn’t deny Lance’s words. He had, after all, been wearing the same suit for two whole years, even if he did wash it as often as he could. Besides, it was beginning to get a bit small for him, designed as it was to be skin-tight for a much smaller boy.

“If you have something for me to change into, be my guest,” Keith grumbled, if only to keep up appearances. He wouldn’t mind Lance picking something out for him as long as it wasn’t as tight as the clothing Lance seemed to be favoring right now. “Did you keep any of my old stuff?”

“Yes and no,” Lance admitted. “We have everything except for your old t-shirt. But I don’t think they’d fit you anymore. You got... big.” His eyes flickered down Keith’s body and back up to his face almost before Keith could register the movement. His Adam’s apple bobbed attractively. “B-but yeah. Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title and song lyrics taken from:** "Emperor's New Clothes" by Panic! At The Disco
> 
> **Translations, in order of appearance:**  
>  (Note: "Galran" is Russian, "Altean" is [mostly] Welsh. The spellings for the Welsh in the fic is inaccurate for ease of pronunciation. Both were taken from Google Translate and may be inaccurate. Please let me know if this is the case, and I will try to fix it.)  
>  _Sozdatel, day mne sily_ = Создатель, дай мне силы. = Creator, give me strength.
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  _(EDIT 7/9: i have now added all of lance's outfits from this chapter! who's proud of me? up next: Outfit #3 ;) [and maybe keith's outfits too if i feel like it])_
> 
> SO! observant readers might've noticed that the tags and number of chapters has changed. i typed part of ch 2 yesterday while i was at work and finished it this morning, only to realize that while the first chapter is less than 3k words, ch 2 was clocking in at well over 10k. i guess like keith, i cannot control myself when it comes to being gay and being in love with lance. so ch 3 is technically already written, and i will probably post it tomorrow when it's formatted. or i might get overexcited and post it later today, who knows. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> uhhh other than that, i don't think i have anything else that needs to be said other than BIG HUGE THANK YOU to my friend bre for reading this over and helping me edit <3 you're the best, boo. and thank yOU GUYS for being so amazing. i'm still so happy that people have actually already started reading this despite my track record with finish long fics. **_reviews/comments/kudos/etc. literally make my day, so thank you so much for reading!!!!!_**


	3. Eros and Apollo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So your big, gay crush decides to look like a stripper for his upcoming solo mission...?_
> 
> (Or: Lance decides Keith needs to take advantage of the Castle's hoard of clothing, guilts Keith into trying on some new clothes, and shows off his own mission outfit, all while unknowingly ruining any chance Keith had at pretending he was anything more than a gay disaster with a stupidly-huge crush.)

> _There is a boy so wonderful / The girls who see him try to follow him back home / And the gigolos run like spiders when he comes / Cause he is Eros and Apollo / Girls, with a boy like that it’s serious / Señoritas, don’t follow him!_

Lance turned on his heel and began to walk away quickly. Keith scrambled to follow and used his extra few inches of height to catch up with Lance’s long strides. They disappeared into one of the sections of clothing racks, and Keith cast a look at some of the things they were passing, if only so he didn’t feel tempted to watch how Lance’s ass looked in those skin-tight leather pants. (He was still tempted, of course, but he thankfully still had the willpower to not give in.) The clothing seemed to be shoved wherever there was room for it, all manner of styles and number of limb openings and colors clashing together on the same rack. Lance seemed to know where he was going, however, because they were barely forty feet away from the changing room when Lance came to an abrupt halt and plucked something off one of the racks.

He stopped so suddenly that Keith accidentally bumped right into him. “Sorry,” he apologized, but his mind was suddenly fogged up by the smell of Lance’s cologne. It wasn’t very strong, thankfully (Keith hated strong-smelling perfumes with a passion; they gave him headaches and sneeze-attacks), but Keith had always had a good nose. After two years spent with his mother, slowly learning to tap into his Galra heritage, it’d only gotten better. This close, however, he barely needed the boost in smell-power.

It was hard to describe how Lance smelled, and he didn’t smell like just one, consistent thing. People rarely did, even if they tried to coordinate their smells (which was something Keith could tell Lance tried to do). On the surface, he smelled like cologne. It was that weird, indescribable, stereotypically masculine “musk” that most men’s body sprays smelled like, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the stuff the boys back at the Garrison used, and it had a subtle splash of something a bit more flower-y to balance out what Keith had always jokingly called “the deer pheromones”. But Lance also smelled like his shampoo and body wash, which was alien but smelled like tropical fruit. Underneath that layer, he smelled like laundry detergent, airy and clean. And hidden below it all, so subtle that Keith had to take a second, deeper breath just to confirm it existed, was something salty and very human: Lance’s natural scent, what he smelled like without all the artificial smells clinging to him right now.

One thing that Keith had noticed during his travels that he never thought to tell the team or really always had the chance to notice, since it required him to get uncomfortably close to someone, was that every alien species seemed to have its own unique natural smell, an undercurrent that let Keith identify them as different species without even having to look at them. They rarely smelled like anything Keith had smelled before, but they still brought to mind different things. Humans were like the air right before a monsoon; Alteans were the mystery of a distant galaxy; Galrans had the frantic energy of a sports stadium, sometimes tinged with blood... The list went on and on, with each species having its own, indescribable scent.

But Lance smelled of human’s petrichor with a strange hint of something else, a smell that belonged to another species. Keith frowned and wanted to dip his nose into the junction of Lance’s neck and shoulder to get a clear, uninterrupted sniff of whatever was hiding underneath his humanity, but Lance cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh, Keith?” he said, looking up at the boy out of the corner of his eye. “I know you’re probably trying to gloat about your growth spurt, and I’m proud of you and everything? But you’re kinda breathing down my neck.”

Keith stumbled back like he’d been shot, just barely catching himself before he knocked over the rack behind him. Lance turned and took a half-step forward like he wanted to catch Keith’s arm, but he stopped himself before he could get close. He bit his lip (unfair, _Keith_ wanted to be the one biting it, and that was _not_ a healthy thought right now) and quickly turned back to the rack.

“Okay!” he said with false nonchalance. He was trying to force this trainwreck back into something resembling normalcy. Keith would do his best to do the same, even as his thoughts still stubbornly circled the drain. “You’re a bit taller and probably a bit wider, so we’ll go a few sizes up from your old jeans. Sound good?”

“Y-yeah,” Keith stammered. “Could you try to make them not super skinny? I have trouble fitting in those sometimes.”

Now that he’d hit what he hoped was his final growth spurt and after so many hours spent sparring with Krolia for nothing if not something to do, Keith’s legs were thick with muscle, especially his thighs. Which was unfortunate, because for some reason, men’s skinny jeans didn’t allow for much room for their thighs. Keith supposed they were made with men like Lance in mind: lean and tall, with the sizes mostly just meant for progressively longer legs. He’d almost consider switching to women’s jeans, if only for the comfort of being allowed to have an ass and thighs, but the pockets were absolutely horrible, if they even existed, and the pant legs would probably terminate at about the top of his ankle now.

Lance interrupted his musings about the arbitrary limits of the fashion industry and the ridiculousness of having gendered clothing by turning around and shoving a pair of pants at him. “These should work, and the fabric’s a lot stretchier than regular denim,” Lance told him. “Now to find you a shirt.”

He walked away, and Keith followed, testing the fabric of the alien jeans. Lance seemed to be right: they were more like jeggings with their stretch and softness, but they didn’t seem to be skin-tight, which would be a nice change of pace from all the uniforms Keith had to wear.

Like before, they didn’t have to walk far to get to where Lance wanted to go. This time, however, he seemed to deliberate for a bit longer, combing through the rack a few times before settling on two options. He held either one in front of Keith’s chest, frowning, before asking, “Could you take off the breastplate? It’s messing up my measurements.”

Keith nodded and draped his new jeans over a nearby rack to free up his hands. With two sharp clicks, he slipped the lightweight armor up and over his shoulders. Underneath was the protective material of his under-armor. It was similar to the kind he used to wear under his Paladin armor, but a bit thinner and it didn’t have whatever weird magic that allowed his Paladin armor to always fit perfectly, no matter who was wearing it. (He hadn’t believed that at first, but when he discovered that the armor they used now was almost the exact same armor used by the original Paladins despite the huge difference in sizes and species between the generations, he’d reluctantly chalked it up to the magic of superior technology.)

The suit was supposed to be skin-tight regardless of who wore it, but without the size-changing magic of Paladin armor, it barely fit Keith anymore. In most places, it was still okay, but apparently Keith had really bulked up in his torso and shoulders, because underneath the breastplate, the suit was stretched to its almost-absolute limit. It was a bit embarrassing, really, to look shirtless while still wearing a layer of clothing, but hey, at least it wasn’t cold enough for Keith’s nipples to be poking through too.

_“Jesús, José y María!”_ Lance wheezed, looking caught between laughing and choking. “What did you _eat_ on that whale, Keithers? Pure whey protein?”

Keith shrugged awkwardly and crossed his arms instinctively. Wrong move. Now his chest and biceps were bulging all the more, stretching the fabric even further. “A bit of everything,” he muttered, answering Lance’s mostly-joking question as if it was serious. “But yeah, I guess we ate a lot of meat. Galrans are mostly carnivorous, so Krolia needed a lot more meat than I did.” She also ate it mostly-raw, which disgusted Keith until he’d tried it and gotten hooked himself.

Lance paused, something hard glinting in his eyes. “Krolia? What, did you get a Blade girlfriend?”

Keith leveled his teammate with the blandest look he could. “I’m gay,” he said flatly. “So no, Lance, I didn’t get a girlfriend. You’re not one of the only Paladins who doesn’t have a romantic partner.”

“Oi! Who’s to say I don’t have a _chica_ waiting for me back on Earth?” Lance snapped defensively.

“I do. Because you’d be bragging non-stop and, hopefully, wouldn’t flirt with everything that seems vaguely sentient and the age of consent,” Keith growled. Something akin to possessiveness was roiling in his gut at the thought of someone pining for Lance back on Earth, even though Keith _knew_ he had no right to feel that.

Lance was, as he’d just subtly reminded Keith, straight as North Dakota’s Highway 46. And he didn’t know about Keith’s crush, either. He was being stupid, he knew, but the unfortunate thing about feelings was that you couldn’t bully them into going away, as much as Keith tried. The only thing he could do was _not_ be a total creep, and he was failing at that, too.

“...Point taken,” Lance muttered testily. “Now uncross your arms. I can’t sight-measure this shit with your bulging biceps in the way.”

Keith blushed but did as Lance asked, his arms coming down to hang awkwardly at his side. Lance squinted at his chest, shook his head, and held up the next shirt. This one, too, received an annoyed shake of Lance’s head, and both shirts were tossed back onto the rack. “Stop being such a Dorito!” Lance huffed, glaring up at Keith. “I can’t find a big enough shirt for you here. Come on, we’re going to the Galra section.”

It took a few more tries, but Keith eventually had a small stack of clothing to try on. They arrived back at the changing room area to find Romelle, Allura, and even Lotor all shooting the shit like they hadn’t even noticed Keith and Lance were gone. Keith wouldn’t be surprised if that was actually the case. Still, they looked up briefly to acknowledge the two’s presence before Lotor dove right back into an explanation of the reforms he was planning for the Galran Empire and how he was planning to roll out discussions of colonized planets’ independence, should they choose to want it.

Lance surprised Keith by literally shoving him into the middle changing room, making the former team leader almost trip over the curtains at the unexpected touch. Even through a layer of alien fabric, Keith could feel the warmth of Lance’s hands, blessedly cool in comparison to the sudden burning of his body.

“You don’t have to show off your outfits if you don’t want to, but I want you to try on _everything_ so you know if it fits,” Lance instructed, oblivious to Keith’s sudden inability to walk right. “If it doesn’t, ask Allura to find the next size up or something similar if she can’t.” He looked over his shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, Allura, but you said you had a pair of shoes you thought would work? Could you go get them? I’m gonna show off my last look while Keithy-boy here changes out of that stinky space suit.”

“It’s not stinky, I washed it before we left the colony!” Keith protested.

Lance flapped his hand at him impatiently. “Oh, hush you, I was just teasing! Now get in there and get out of your suit! You’re so mission-minded it’ll give _me_ stress pimples.”

Keith rolled his eyes but ducked inside the changing room. It wasn’t anything special: just a roughly-10x10 square room with a bench, a few hooks to hang stuff off of, and a floor-length mirror to look at himself in. Or, if he was Lance, preen in.

_I shouldn’t think about Lance while stripping,_ Keith told himself firmly as he set his small stack of clothing and discarded breastplate down on the bench.

He thought of Lance while stripping.

But at least he kept his thoughts PG! Mostly, his mind was occupied with worry. Lance said he was going on this mission _alone_. Normally, Keith wouldn’t mind, except he had a bad feeling about this mission. How had Pidge described their mark? One of the “less-than-savory” people the Kythilian Mu knew. In other words, a criminal and a sleazebag, guilty of enough that he instinctively ran whenever law enforcement or someone with the barest trace of a conscience showed up. Keith just didn’t trust the guy to be around Lance, alone and horny, for a few hours.

_I could go too,_ Keith realized with a start, right as he was about to button up the jegging-like pants Lance had picked out for him. _I’m a former Blade operative: I know how to be stealthy and fly under the radar. I could watch him from afar and make sure nothing bad happens to him. Protect him if something goes sideways…_

The idea was looking more and more attractive by the moment. Keith grinned to himself as he finished changing into his first outfit: a pair of red combat boots, the stretchy black jeans, and a simple, dark grey t-shirt with a red flannel left open over top. It was a nice outfit, Keith admitted absently. Simple, good range of movement, and just baggy enough that it didn’t remind Keith of his skin-tight under-armor. The pops of red were even a bit nice, too.

Satisfied, he stripped for the next outfit, listening to the music playing far overhead. He was surprised that he recognized it and actually sang along under his breath as he changed.

_“They love me like I was a brother_  
_They protect me_  
_Listen to me_  
_They dug me my very own garden_  
_Gave me sunshine_  
_Made me happy…”_

The next outfit was similarly simple. Another pair of slightly-skinny jeans, though these were acid-washed blue instead of black, and they came with a thin, white belt. His shirt was a maroon sweater with thin black stripes, big and baggy with long sleeves that covered part of his palms. There was some sort of alien language printed on the sleeves in blocky, black lettering, but Keith wasn’t sure what it said. Hopefully nothing offensive, or Allura (and maybe Krolia too, if she recognized it) would kill him. For some reason, Lance had insisted that he tuck the bottom of the sweater into the jeans, and Keith did so when he realized he kind of looked like a little kid drowning in a two-sizes-too-big sweater. It looked a bit better like that - more intentional, anyways - but Keith didn’t know the first thing about fashion.

He topped it off with some red-and-white tennis shoes and a black beanie. Keith didn’t wear hats, normally, but he supposed he liked the weight of the beanie, and it made his shaggy mess of too-long hair look neater.

All in all, it was a nice outfit, though Keith changed back into the first outfit and rolled up the flannel’s sleeves to his elbows. He liked the black jeans a bit more, and he didn’t feel like wearing a huge sweater when Lance was making him sweat with every outfit he put on. When he emerged from the changing room, his old suit and the second outfit in his hands, he found that Lance still hadn’t emerged from the other changing room, though Allura had apparently gotten him the shoes he needed because there was a large, empty box sitting on the little table.

“Oh! You look nice, Keith,” Allura complimented. “Lance did a good job.”

“Yeah, he did,” Keith agreed, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “At least it fits.”

“Yeah, you looked like you were about to burst out of that old suit!” Romelle laughed. “Where is it, by the way? Would I be able to try it on? I’ve always wanted to look like a secret agent!”

“No,” Keith said calmly, reclaiming his seat and propping his new boots up on the table in front of him. “It’s for Blade members only.”

“Speaking of Blade membership…” Allura said hesitantly. “Are you going to be joining them again once we find Kuron and get Shiro back?”

“No. I told Coran and Pidge that I’m staying for good. You’re stuck with me till the end of the line, Princess.” He gave Allura a small grin.

She smiled back, obviously happy. “Oh, don’t be like that! We’re happy to have you back, Keith. You’re lucky you’re not standing up, either, or I’d give you another hug.”

“I think you’d break my ribs if you did that,” Keith joked, and Allura rolled her eyes in playful exasperation.

She was about to say something else when Keith heard someone walking over from downstairs. He turned, and sure enough, his mother was trotting up, Keith’s wolf following close behind her. The wolf barked happily when he saw Keith, and with a flash of stardust, Keith suddenly had a lap full of space-wolf. Apparently, he’d gotten over the rough landing and was done exploring the Castle.

“Hey, boy,” Keith laughed, giving him the pets he demanded. He groaned a bit when he was given an enthusiastic kiss for his efforts. “Ew. But yeah, I missed you too.”

Allura wasn’t so pleased at his appearance. _“Gan eh gwanathe eur!”_ she shrieked, springing away from Keith and his wolf. Her Bayard appeared in her hand, a barrier between her and the wolf, who simply cocked his head innocently. “What in the galaxy are you doing with a _Blaidd Cosmig?!”_

“Is that what he is?” Keith asked curiously. “I dunno, I just found him on the whale.” He scratched the wolf’s favorite spot behind his ear, and he panted happily. “Why, is he poisonous or something?”

“No, b-but he’s extremely dangerous! _Cosmigs_ are creatures born outside the normal flow of time and space, and they are powerful and completely wild! Why would you bring it on the ship?!”

“Coran didn’t seem to mind,” Keith pointed out moodily. “Besides, he’s hardly _wild_. I’ve been training him since he was a puppy. Look.” He stopped petting the wolf and looked down at him. “Sit.”

The wolf blinked.

“He’s already sitting, _detenysh,”_ Krolia pointed out quietly.

Keith blushed. “Oh. Uh…” He fished his blade out from his discarded suit and held it up, still in its smaller form and protected by a simple sheath. Drawing his arm back, he threw it as hard as he could over the balcony. “Fetch, boy!”

The wolf disappeared in a flash and reappeared a second later, standing in front of Keith with the blade in his mouth, tail wagging. Keith grinned at him and immediately gave him ear-scritches. “Good boy!”

Lotor looked frozen in shock, and Allura was still obviously wary. “He’s not dangerous,” Keith insisted, frowning. “And I’ll keep him away from the mice.”

That seemed to satisfy Allura, but she still kept her distance. “Fine, but if he hurts even _one_ of them, you are dumping him back in the Abyss!” she threatened, her Bayard disappearing again.

“It won’t come to that, but fine,” Keith agreed. He looked over at his mother and patted the seat next to him. “Lance is trying on his last outfit.”

Krolia smirked and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? _Vy gotovy k etomu?”_

He scowled, his cheeks hot. _“Molchi. Chto ty znayesh?”_

Krolia chuckled, and the changing room curtain swished open.

Three things happened in very quick succession:

1\. Keith choked on thin air.

2\. Lance screamed “PUPPY!” as he laid eyes on Keith’s wolf for the first time.

3\. The wolf perked up, teleported, and tackled Lance to the floor, his tail wagging so fast it blurred.

Unlike Allura, Lance showed absolutely no hesitation about the giant, alien wolf suddenly sitting on his chest, licking his face insistently, and looking more excited than Keith had ever seen him be before. He giggled loudly and shouted things like, “Ack, no, stop, I just exfoliated!” but still buried his hands in the wolf’s thick mane of fur and pet every inch that wasn’t violently lunging for his face.

Krolia thankfully took over as Keith continued to cough violently into his fist. _“Vedi sebya, durak!”_ she shouted, standing up and crossing quickly to help the giggling Paladin.

With Krolia’s help, Lance was able to push the wolf off and stand up, though Keith kind of wished he’d stayed on the ground and buried under one hundred odd pounds of dog hair until Keith was able to come to terms with what he was wearing.

Apparently, Lance had taken Lotor and Allura’s critiques and assessments of Daarvus’ character to heart and decided that looking like a stripper was his best bet. And holy shit, Keith was not ready for that.

The boots were the first thing that had caught Keith’s eye. They must’ve added about six or so inches to Lance’s height, because he was now almost as tall as Krolia and definitely taller than Keith again, and they reached all the way up to Lance’s mid-thigh, made of bright white leather and black laces that were tied in neat little bows to keep them on.

The next thing that caught Keith’s eye was Lance’s shorts. And calling them “shorts” didn’t even feel right, because that implied that they had the decency to cover up more than just a few centimeters of Lance’s legs. They were dark blue and absolutely tiny: Daisy Dukes made of who-knows-what, and when Lance half-turned away to close the curtains to the changing room, he revealed the large white lettering on the back: _PROTIVNYY_ , they declared in unmistakable Galran lettering. Keith disagreed. If they (or the man wearing them) were _protivnyy_ , then he wouldn’t be having such a hard time breathing.

Lance’s shirt was equally terrible for Keith’s lung health. It was loose and bright blue, messily cropped just below Lance’s ribcage, and to make matters worse, the collar was big enough that it was already slipping off Lance’s shoulder. More Galra lettering was printed on it, white and calligraphic: _Papochka Malen’kiy Anglochek_. Lance was _many_ things, but right now, he was the furthest thing from an _angel_.

“Okay, so whose dog is this?” Lance asked, half-bent down as he pet Keith’s wolf. The neckline of his crop top hung down low enough that Keith could see down it almost perfectly.

“Mine,” Keith croaked. He regretted speaking up as soon as Lance’s grinning eyes fell on his. He felt like he would combust.

“Really? Another thing you found on your space whale?” Lance teased, straightening. He sashayed closer, hips swaying (that had to be deliberate because Lance didn’t walk like that normally) and heels clicking like a judge’s gavel against the metal floor. It certainly felt like a death sentence when he stopped in front of Keith, smirking down at him. With Keith sitting down and Lance wearing stripper boots, Keith was now eye-level with Lance’s exposed belly button and the smooth planes of his abs (which were definitely more defined than Keith remembered).

“Who’s taller now?” Lance whispered, and if Keith died right now, he would die a happy man. Sure, he’d never confessed his love to Lance or figured out if his lips were as plush as they looked, but with the heat of Lance’s half-lidded gaze curling low in his abdomen, threatening to push against the zipper of his pants, he found he didn’t mind as much.

“You look like a prostitute,” Romelle said bluntly from off to the side. It was enough to get Lance to look away, but Keith’s eyes merely settled on the slight bulge in the front of his tiny shorts. It was tantalizingly close, and a deep, shaky breath revealed that it was thick with the almost-human scent Keith had smelled underneath Lance’s many artificial layers. His mouth filled with saliva, and his fingers twitched, just the smallest bit.

“That’s the idea,” Lance laughed, and he stepped back before Keith’s hands could find themselves on his hips. “I figured Daarvus isn’t going for a long-term relationship, right? Might as well dress like one of his one-night-stands and go from there.”

“Good thinking,” Lotor coughed awkwardly, his face stained with a dark blush, “but are the shirt and pants really necessary? Those are some rather suggestive Galran words.”

“I know,” Lance chirped, putting his hands on his hips and shifting his weight to one leg. “But it helps pull everything together. And Galran is a pretty common language, so he’ll probably be able to read it.”

Lotor nodded and averted his gaze, embarrassed.

“Yes, well, that will work,” Allura declared, equally flustered. “Get changed into something more comfortable for the time being, and when the time comes, I’ll help you with the finishing touches.”

Lance nodded and practically skipped back into the changing room. Keith’s eyes watched his rear end the whole time and died when he spotted the edge of some black, lacy underwear peeking out of one of the legs.

_Maybe I shouldn’t go with,_ Keith thought to himself as he hid his burning face in his wolf’s fur. _I don’t think I’d survive long enough to protect him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title and song lyrics taken from:** "Eros and Apollo" by Studio Killers  
>  **Additional song lyrics taken from:** "(Nice Dream)" by Radiohead
> 
> **Translations, in order of appearance:**  
>  (Note: "Galran" is Russian, "Altean" is [mostly] Welsh. The spellings for the Welsh in the fic is inaccurate for ease of pronunciation. Both were taken from Google Translate and may be inaccurate. Please let me know if this is the case, and I will try to fix it.)  
>  _Gan eh gwanathe eur!_ = Gan y gwneuthurwr! = By the maker!  
>  _Blaidd Cosmig_ = blaidd cosmig = cosmic wolf (and the award for most unoriginal name once again goes to--!)  
>  _detenysh_ = детеныш = cub/young  
>  _Vy gotovy k etomu?_ = Вы готовы к этому? = Are you ready for this/that?  
>  _Molchi. Chto ty znayesh?_ = Молчи. Что ты знаешь? = Shut up. What do you know?  
>  _Vedi sebya, durak!_ = Веди себя, остолоп! = Behave yourself, mutt!  
>  _protivnyy_ = противный = nasty  
>  _Papochka Malen’kiy Anglochek_ = Папочка маленький ангелочек = Daddy's Little Angel
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  _EDIT: obviously, i added art for keith's two outfits [and before you say it, yes i know the second one doesn't have a beanie; by the time i realized that i was too lazy to change it]! stay tuned for lance's notorious Outfit #3 ;)) )_  
>  sorry for the delay on this chapter! like i said last a/n, this was originally the second part of chapter 2 before i realized keith was being a little _too_ wordy and gay. guess he unknowingly turns into a poet whenever he's struck with His Gay Feelings For Lance (TM). anyways, i was going to post this july 3, but my friend invited me to the beach, and i spent the whole day swimming and being slowly burnt alive. (side note: sleeping on my back is now very painful. remember to reapply your sunscreen frequently, kiddos!) next chapter hasn't been started yet, but i've got my outline all ready to go, and being gay for lance comes naturally to me, tbh.
> 
> in other news, life is big :(( right now. corona cases are spiking in my state again (no surprise there), july 4 just felt less like Independence Day and more like Government-Sanctioned Nationalism Day, and i'm scared my college is gonna try switching to online classes again (which will be Big Terrible since i'm an art major and i can't really take my two animation classes remotely). with all that in mind, don't be surprised if it takes a little while for me to post the next chapter. depression/anxiety's just kinda trying to whip my ass lately. i'm seeing my friends and therapist soon, though, so i'm getting help and support, just like you guys should do if everything's getting to you! mental health is important, y'all. <3
> 
> well, with all that out of the way, i think you guys know what i'm gonna say next. **_i dare you to steal my uwu's and kudos/comment/review/etc.!!! >:3c <3<3<3_**


	4. Let Me Make You Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So your big, gay crush is mad at you for being overprotective, and your hormones won't cool their jets...?_
> 
> (Or: Keith tells the team he wants to go as Lance's back-up, Lance starts giving him the cold shoulder, and Keith's dick decides to introduce itself to the story, for better or for worse.)

> _I will make you proud / I will make you have faith in me / I will prove that the way I used to be is all in the past / I will save the day / And come back here triumphantly / Cause I long for that look of surprise when you see your son rising at last_

Thankfully, the next time Lance emerged from the changing room, he was wearing his normal clothing. As much as Keith had loved the tight pants and revealed skin in the privacy of his own mind, it was much better for his dwindling self-control for Lance to be wearing his normal outfit. Besides, the grey high-tops, blue jeans, and baggy, green jacket over a white-and-blue baseball shirt were a comforting sight to see after so long spent with just a memory of how it looked. It made Keith’s heart warm with pleasant memories, and like this, Lance looked soft and young, like he was supposed to be. Like he was when this war wasn’t taking everything it could.

Keith had spent most of the time Lance was changing trying to calm down his blushing cheeks and purify his thoughts. He probably should’ve tried to forget how Lance had looked in Outfit #3 too (or really, _any_ of the outfits, including the robe he’d been wearing when Keith had first seen him), but he wasn’t a _saint_. That shit was going straight to his spank bank, most of which was taken up by Lance anyways. He wasn’t proud of that, but hey, who was?

Krolia, for better or for worse, had decided to sit next to him and make small-talk in Galran about his teammates. Thankfully, the only other two people there who could understand Galran were still deep in conversation with Romelle. She confessed that they confused her, for the most part, but they had her approval. For some reason, that made Keith feel relieved. He wasn’t sure why his mother’s opinion mattered to him so much, but it felt nice to know that he wouldn’t be torn between his long-standing loyalty to the team and loyalty to his still-developing relationship with his mother.

Of course, after a few seconds of silence, Krolia had to ruin everything by saying, faux-innocence practically dripping from her voice, _“Ya ponimayu, pochemu tebe nravitsya Lance. On onchen’ krasivyy.”_

Keith groaned loudly and threw his hands up. _“Nenavizhu tebya!”_ he yelled, not caring if the others overheard him.

With Lance dressed and not being attacked by Keith’s wolf - though he’d still had to provide more some more pets before the wolf allowed him to walk more than a few feet - the team began to move towards the dining room, where they would eat a quick dinner, perhaps catch up a little bit in one of the nearby lounge areas, and then head to bed early, so that they were ready for the mission tomorrow. Keith wondered where he, Krolia, and Romelle would stay but decided to worry about that later. The more scientifically-minded of the team were probably dying to learn more about their experience in the Quantum Abyss, and Lance (now able to focus on more than being tackled by a space wolf) kept looking between Keith and Krolia with a thoughtful expression on his face. No doubt he wanted to know what their relationship was, and Keith debated telling him and the rest of the team the truth.

He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating, either. It wasn’t like the team hadn’t already known Keith’s mom wasn’t human, or that they didn’t know she’d left him on Earth as a baby. And Krolia, for her part, had probably just hidden their relationship in her initial introductions so Keith didn’t have to answer more questions (which he appreciated). She’d also, for better or for worse, made it clear that she approved of the team, especially Lance. So it wasn’t a fear of them not getting along that made him hesitate.

Maybe it was because he was still a bit unsure himself about his relationship with Krolia. The two years they’d been stuck together had done wonders for taking down their walls and growing more openly affectionate like most mothers and their sons were expected to be, but Keith’s abandonment issues were deeply-rooted. As much as she’d tried, and as much as Keith had tried to help, neither of them could completely undo the eighteen-odd years he’d spent thinking Krolia had abandoned him because there was something wrong with him or because she was ashamed of him. And that wasn’t even _mentioning_ the equally pervasive bullying that had reinforced his insecurities.

His only comfort was that at least the team already seemed to know. At least, Pidge, Hunk, and _Lance_ seemed to. If they brought it up, he would tell them, Keith decided. And considering Hunk’s inability to keep secrets for very long, they probably would in the next couple of days. In fact, Keith would be surprised if they lasted through dinner.

The team fell into place pretty quickly when they reached the dining room. Hunk lingered just long enough to shake his finger at Keith and force him to promise to talk about the Abyss before he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Apparently, after they’d started expanding the Coalition, the team had better access to food that _wasn’t_ food goo. Keith was glad. He’d missed the Castle and being a part of the team, but one of the few things he _hadn’t_ missed was the limited menu.

“You’re in for a treat, Krolia. Hunk is an _amazing_ cook,” Allura assured with a grin as she settled at the head of the table. Lotor settled immediately to her right, and Lance to her left. Pidge settled next to Lotor with a gap probably meant for Hunk, but Romelle took it instead. Pidge looked briefly miffed before she shook her head and allowed it. Though, Keith noticed, she propped her foot up on the chair on her other side, silently challenging someone to try and take it.

That left Keith and Krolia still hovering, a bit unsure of where to sit. The team had obviously switched around their seating arrangements to suit the glaringly obvious empty chair at the other end of the table where Shiro might’ve sat once, the rest of the team sandwiched between its two main leaders.

After another second of deliberation, Keith sat down in the empty seat next to Lance. It probably wasn’t a good idea with the memory of his changing room shenanigans still fresh in Keith’s mind (and Lance’s scent still lingering tantalizingly close, no doubt threatening to clog his synapses if he breathed too deeply), but it was where he’d sat before he’d left. If he could handle it back then, surely he’d be able to handle it now.

Krolia settled next to Keith, a hint of discomfort lingering in the straight line of her back. Keith was hit with something akin to self-awareness mixed with disbelief - he felt this every time he noticed the similarities in his and his mother’s behaviors and personalities despite the decade-plus they’d spent apart.

At least he understood her discomfort. He was feeling it too, to be honest. It had been a while since he’d sat at this table with these people (two years for him and several months for them), and even if the room was comfortably familiar, there were enough differences in seating arrangements and dining company that the familiarity was almost completely overshadowed by lingering awkwardness.

“I look forward to trying his food,” Krolia said once she’d settled into her chair, smiling politely back at Allura. Well, polite _enough_. She tended to smile with only the bottom half of her face, her lips pressed shut to hide her pointed teeth. Considering her default expression was a furrowed brow and scrutinizing gaze, however, it was a nice change of pace.

Silence reigned for just a moment until Lance, leaning forward to look past Keith’s bulk, asked, “So - Krolia, was it? Who’s Keith’s dad?”

Keith would’ve done a spit-take if he’d been drinking something. Thankfully, the table would be devoid of plates or silverware or glasses until Hunk called for someone to set the table. Not-so-thankfully, his body was able to substitute regular air for water, and Keith coughed in surprise.

Krolia looked equally alarmed, though she at least had enough control of her bodily functions to not start hacking like an idiot. “What makes you think I know that information?” she demanded too-fast, giving herself away immediately. Keith would’ve face-palmed if he hadn’t been focused on trying to breathe normally - which was a problem he noticed he was encountering more and more the longer he spent in Lance’s presence.

Lance spared Keith a glance to check if he was okay before giving Krolia a deadpan look. “Look, I don’t know why you two are pretending otherwise - that’s _your_ emotional baggage to deal with, not mine - but you can’t sit there looking like a lazy, thirty-second Photoshop edit of my buddy Keith and seriously expect me to buy that you’re not related _somehow_. And not to diss - because trust me, you look really good for your age - but based on the age difference and sheer similarities between your guys’ faces, I’d guess you’re his mom. So, again, I ask: who’s Keith’s dad? Because Keithy here’s never told us anything, but his existence proves that his dad is braver than any U.S. Marine, truly.”

Pidge started cackling about halfway through Lance’s little speech, and by the time he’d finished, she had almost fallen out of her chair. Lotor, meanwhile, was hiding his grin behind a hand, and Allura looked caught between secondhand embarrassment, chastisement, resignation, and similar gut-busting laughter.

Romelle just looked vaguely confused. “Wait, you two are related?”

Keith really _did_ face-palm that time.

He felt Krolia’s eyes on him, probably trying to silently ask for help, but he refused to return her gaze. “My dad’s dead, Lance,” he said flatly. “Has been since I was nine.”

“...Oh,” Lance said meekly. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“It’s fine,” Keith interrupted. “I should’ve told you guys ages ago.” He looked up and over at Allura, desperate to change the pitying atmosphere creeping into the room. “I want to go with Lance to this night club as back-up.”

“What?!” Lance exclaimed indignantly. “What does that have to do with--? Allura! Tell him he can’t come!”

Allura got over her surprise and said, “I agree with Lance for the most part. Having more than one Paladin there increases Lance’s chances of being recognized and scaring Daarvus off. Not to mention, you... How to put this lightly…? You don’t have the best track record with more _diplomatic_ missions, Keith.”

Pidge barked out a short laugh. “That’s an understatement! Remember Tarsus?”

Keith felt his face grow hot. “How was I supposed to know the princess would take offense to me asking about her scars?”

“Uh, cause most people aren’t weird space ninjas like you and feel awkward or embarrassed about their scars?” Lance shot back, incredulous. “Seriously, Keith, what part of ‘Tarsans are very image-minded’ did you not understand?! That was basically Shiro-talk for ‘they’re some vain mother- _quiznakers’!”_

“Language!” Allura snapped.

“I still think you’re using that wrong,” Keith muttered, frowning in a way that was definitely not considered ‘pouting’ in most circles.

“I’ll use _you_ the wrong way!” Lance threatened, getting in Keith’s face.

“What does that even _mean?!”_ Keith asked, his face flushing, but refusing to back down first.

“I don’t know!”

“PALADINS!” Allura hollered. The two boys jumped. She sent them both withering glares, and they sat down in their adjacent seats, thoroughly cowed.

She took a deep breath to compose herself. “Keith, what is your reasoning behind wanting to accompany Lance on his mission?” she asked calmly.

“I don’t trust this Daarvus guy,” Keith growled. “We seem to know barely anything about him, but we’re letting Lance cozy up to him, _alone_ , for a few hours? If Daarvus tries pulling something, Lance isn’t gonna have his Bayard or Lion to help.”

Lance made an indignant noise, and Keith made the mistake of looking over at him. To say the Red Paladin was incensed was putting it mildly. “I can take care of _myself_ , Mullet!” he cried. He looked at Allura. “Tell him to fuck off, Allura. I can deal with a pervert for a few hours just fine!”

Allura glared at him for his language but seemed too preoccupied thinking to tell him off verbally. Lance and Keith both waited impatiently for her decision. After another few seconds, she let out a long sigh. “I… Keith might have a point,” she said slowly.

 _“What?!”_ Lance yelped, betrayed. “Allura, I--!”

“Let me explain myself!” she shouted over him. He bit his lower lip, clearly unhappy, but he nodded stiffly to show he would stay quiet. “I agree with Keith’s logic. We don’t know anything about Daarvus, and this mission could go very poorly very quickly. Daarvus could pretend to not recognize you, then turn around and try killing you when you least expect it. I trust you, Lance, of course I do, but... I can’t afford to lose another Paladin.”

Lance, who had been about to open his mouth and protest, closed it abruptly, staring wide-eyed at Allura. His expression softened to understanding, and when Keith followed his gaze to see what had made him change his mind so quickly, he saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

Keith wasn’t the only one who missed Shiro, he realized as Allura sniffed quietly and hastily wiped away her tears. It was a stupid thing to realize so late, he knew, but he supposed he was selfishly focused on his own guilt and grief over losing Shiro _again_ that he never stopped to consider maybe the others felt just as guilty and upset as he did.

“...Okay, so maybe it would be safer, but Daarvus isn’t gonna wanna talk to me if Keith’s looming right behind me like an overprotective boyfriend,” Lance pointed out, voice half-guilty, half-annoyed. “So obviously, you all should just trust me, and _Keith”_ \- he shot the man a quick glare - “should stay back on the ship where he won’t fuck up my smooth-talking.”

“I wouldn’t be standing right behind you like a--” Keith’s brain stalled, and he turned red. “I’d keep my distance, _obviously_. Just... keep an eye on you from the bar or a back corner or wherever.”

“Like a _creep,”_ Lance muttered. “That’s _still_ gonna drive him away.”

“I’ve done stealth missions before, Lance!” Keith snapped.

“Yeah, but _stealth_ missions and _undercover_ missions are two very different things!”

“No, they’re not!”

“Yes, they are! In stealth missions, you’re not supposed to be seen _at all!_ In _undercover_ missions, you need to hide in plain sight! People _are_ supposed to see you, but you have to blend in so well that their eyes just skip right over you!”

“That’s not what _you’re_ doing!”

“Yeah, cause _I’m_ supposed to be gathering information, not stalking someone!”

“I’m not going to be _stalking_ you!”

“Oh, yeah? So if Daarvus invites me into a private room, you’re just gonna stay at the bar like a good space ninja, twiddling your thumbs?”

“First off, you shouldn’t be following Daarvus into a private room _anyways!_ Second off, I’m not a space ninja, Lance!”

“Bullshit, you are _too_ a space ninja!”

 _“IF YOU TWO DON’T STOP ARGUING RIGHT NOW, I’M GOING TO THROW BOTH OF YOU INTO THE BRIG!”_ Allura roared, standing up and slamming her hands on the table. The two in question jumped and whirled around to face her, flushed faces now pale.

“Keith!” she continued, a little quieter but still shouting. “You are to accompany Lance on his mission, but _keep your distance_. This information is the only lead we have right now, and if you mess it up…”

Keith nodded quickly.

She looked at Lance next, and he flinched back the slightest amount. Keith honestly didn’t blame him. He’d rather face down Zarkon again than have the full extent of Allura’s rage focused entirely on him. “Lance. You are to act as if Keith isn’t there, but you are _not_ to go someplace with Daarvus he can’t follow. Your safety is more important than getting this information. Understand?”

“I was making a joke,” Lance explained weakly, somehow managing to look small despite his long limbs.

 _“Understand?”_ Allura hissed.

He nodded, turning his face away and hiding it in the white hood of his jacket. Keith looked away before the sight could send him into cuteness-induced cardiac arrest. It was infuriating how Lance could be handsome, pretty, sexy _and_ adorable all at once. Couldn’t he just _pick_ one and stick with that?

But, Keith thought with an internal sigh, that would be unfair to him. Lance tended to act loud and shallow and cocky, but anyone who’d spent enough time with him knew that there was so much more to him. Behind his facade, Lance was a beautiful, walking contradiction: charming but tactless, smart but oblivious, calm but reckless, self-assured but insecure. There was so much to him that Keith felt like he could know Lance for the rest of his life but still discover something new every day.

(And wasn’t _that_ a tempting thought: living his life with Lance at his side, infuriating and flawed and absolutely everything Keith had ever needed.)

Allura interrupted his thoughts with a sharp bark of his name. He looked up, startled, and watched her nose wrinkle with irritation. She’d sat back down, but her shoulders were still tense. “Were you paying attention?”

“Sorry,” Keith said instead of answering, but that was probably answer enough.

She rolled her eyes but thankfully repeated herself. “I asked, where would you and Krolia like to stay? Your old room is still available, of course, but if you wish to sleep in a guest room, I would be able to prepare one for you.”

“That’s okay. My room should do fine.” If anything, Keith was looking forward to having a bit of privacy after two years of almost non-stop contact with his mother. When he glanced over at her, Krolia looked a bit relieved too. They both desperately needed time alone, introverted as they were.

“Good. Then I think that settles everything. Lance, I believe it’s your turn to set the table.”

Lance nodded and left without a word. Keith could tell that he was still mad about Allura’s decision, but he couldn’t feel too guilty about his part in convincing Allura to agree with him. He just _knew_ something bad would happen on this mission, and if one of his teammates got hurt when Keith could’ve helped (especially Lance, who seemed to unintentionally court danger wherever he went), Keith would never forgive himself.

Pidge cleared her throat to try and dispel some of the uncomfortable silence and looked over at Krolia. “So, uh, why’d you go to Earth in the first place? I thought the Kerberos mission was the Galra’s first contact with humans.”

Krolia’s eyes glazed over slightly like they did whenever she recalled Keith’s father. Her grief over losing him after thinking he was still alive was obvious and slow to scab over and fade like Keith’s had. But she’d had time to come to terms with it, and she was able to start the tale with a small, fond smile instead of glassy eyes and a shaky voice.

She just about got to the part where Tex had saved her from the wreckage of her ship when Lance and Hunk swept into the room, the former carrying a stack of plates topped with silverware and the latter carrying a steaming platter of steaks and large bowl full of alien greens and a few familiar-looking fruits and nuts. Lance started passing out plates and sporks while Hunk placed the food in the center of the table and promised to be right back with the other side dish: roasted potatoes.

“Or, well, the closest I could get,” Hunk admitted with a sheepish chuckle. He disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Which is pretty damn close,” Pidge said with a grin. “I’m so glad we instituted human food nights.”

“And I’m glad I managed to come during one of them,” Keith said, his mouth filling with drool as he eyed the steaks. They were glistening slightly in the light, and Keith hoped Hunk had remembered he liked his meat pretty rare.

To his right, Lance snorted and settled back into his seat. At Keith’s questioning look, he snorted again and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Keith thought for a second and gave him a disappointed glare. _“Really_ , Lance? What are you, _ten?”_

“Inches long? Yes,” Lance answered seriously.

Keith scoffed even as his face heat up. “Like your dick is ten inches long.”

“Okay, so it’s more like _seven_ , but I saw the chance and I had to take it, okay?”

“You really didn’t,” Pidge groaned. “And I didn’t need to know your dick size either.”

Lance shrugged, unfazed. Keith looked away, his ears hot, and tried to _not_ imagine how Lance’s dick looked now that he knew how big it was. Well, how big _Lance_ said it was. _He probably rounded up,_ Keith tried to tell himself.

(...Not that Lance’s dick being smaller than seven inches would stop Keith from wanting to suck on it like a lollipop.)

_(And now really wasn’t the time to think about that goddamnit--)_

Hunk came back, and the smell of the potato-substitute was enough to pull Keith out of his horny musings. (There would be time for that later, now that he had a room to himself.) “Sorry about that taking so long, I didn’t realize they needed a bit more time to cook,” he apologized as he set the final platter down.

“It’s no problem,” Krolia assured, surprising Keith a little bit. She rarely initiated conversations herself. She even _smiled_ , and unlike her diplomatic smiles, this one actually reached her eyes. “It smells delicious.”

Hunk looked surprised but was quick to return her smile. “Aw, thanks Mrs Kogane!”

Krolia’s smile turned wan. “My last name is not Kogane. I never had the chance to marry Keith’s father.”

“Oh. Sorry. I just... it feels a bit weird to just call you _just Krolia_ when you’re Keith’s _mom.”_

“I do not see it as disrespectful to call me by my given name, especially since you are my son’s teammates.”

Hunk nodded and sat down, though Keith could already tell it would take him a while to get used to calling Krolia by just her name.

Dinner went well after that. Keith spent most of it just tearing into his steak and trying not to sound _too_ desperately happy to be eating some real human food - or, well, the closest thing he would be able to get while in space. The others pestered Krolia for more details about the Quantum Abyss and the creature they’d crossed it on, and she filled them as best she could when it became obvious she wouldn’t get much help from Keith. She took it in stride, however, and she even smiled a few times when one of the Paladins cracked a joke.

After dinner, they moved to the lounge area nearest the Paladins’ rooms and kept catching up for a few more minutes. Lance stayed behind to deal with the dishes, and part of Keith wanted to join him, but when he’d offered, Lance had lost all his playful energy and told Keith shortly, “I know how to do dishes.”

Keith blinked, stunned. “I know, I was just--” But before he could finish, Lance had scooped up all the plates and disappeared into the kitchen.

Keith growled, but Krolia patted him on the shoulder. _“Uspokoysya, detenysh._ He will eventually realize that you mean well,” she murmured as the others tried to ignore what had happened and stood to leave.

Keith wasn’t so sure - Krolia didn’t know Lance and his stubborn streak like Keith did - but he bit his lip and tried to focus on the other Paladins’ conversations. He didn’t try talking to Lance again, even when the other joined them in the lounge, all traces of his previous anger gone.

As much as Keith loved talking to the other Paladins (and as much as he’d missed talking to people other than his mother, his wolf, or himself), about a _varga_ after they’d finished dinner, Keith could feel his energy running out. Not only that, but it was getting late, according to the Castle’s internal clock. They would need to wake up rather early tomorrow to debrief, get prepared for the mission, and make it to the planet on time so they wouldn’t have to wait thirty hours for the next night.

He was relieved when Allura glanced at the time and immediately ordered them all to go to bed. Romelle, who’d been in the middle of a dramatic reenactment of how she’d helped Keith and Krolia steal a shuttle to get back to the Castle, looked a bit miffed, but then she yawned widely and grudgingly admitted that she hadn’t slept in a real bed for well over a _quintant_.

Keith flushed and pretended to be irritated when Krolia kissed his forehead to bid him goodnight and followed Coran and Romelle down a separate corridor where they would be staying in the guest wing. He also pretended not to notice how Lance was the first to slip inside his room, pointedly not wishing him goodnight like the others had.

 _He’ll come around,_ Keith told himself as he let himself into his own room. _I’m doing this for his own good._

That didn’t make him feel any better, oddly enough.

On the plus side, his room looked exactly how he’d left it: barren except for a handful of cool rocks he’d found during his adventures sitting on top of his dresser and his old jacket hanging by the door. His red-and-white boots were sitting underneath it, and his old jeans and belt were sitting on the dresser next to his rock collection.

Keith smiled to himself and tossed his flannel on the bed to try on his jacket. Just like Lance had theorized, it was too small. He probably would’ve been able to squeeze it on if he’d popped a few stitches or tried longer, but he didn’t have the patience for it. As soon as it resisted going any further up his arm, he’d huffed and started to take it off again.

But then he’d gotten a whiff of it, and he paused. A quick sniff of the collar confirmed his suspicions, but it didn’t make him any less confused. Why did his jacket smell like Lance? Had the other Paladin washed it for him or something? But then, why didn’t it smell more strongly of laundry detergent? And why did Lance’s scent cling to the _inside_ of the jacket if he had just been washing it?

Confused, Keith went to hang the jacket back up only to realize that _wait_ , his jacket smelled like _Lance_. It was faint, like Lance hadn’t done... whatever he’d done to the jacket in a few days, but it was more tangible than the memory of a few _vargas_ ago in the department store/closet.

Guilt and arousal began to stir in Keith’s gut. The arousal won out, however, and with a resigned sigh, Keith stripped, grabbed a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion from out of the bathroom, buried his nose in the jacket, and had the best orgasm he’d had since joining the Blade, barely making it to the five minute mark. The post-nut guilt was astronomical, but Keith shoved it aside and rolled over on his side to slowly drift off, his Lance-scented jacket still lying by his pillow.

That ended up being a mistake. Keith’s dreams were vivid and full of a certain blue-eyed Paladin wearing the notorious Outfit #3, the crotch of his Daisy Dukes pushed to the side to allow Keith easy access to the best parts of him and his pretty, pink mouth loudly singing his pleasure as Keith alternated between eating him out, blowing him, and fucking him within an inch of his life. He woke up fully hard and barely had to touch himself before he was finishing all over his stomach. After he’d caught his breath, he’d forced himself onto shaking legs and into the bathroom to wash up.

Except he hadn’t even found relief in the shower, either. His hormones spiked _again_ when he realized he would get to see the _real_ Lance in Outfit #3 in just a few hours, and with clips of his dream still swirling around in his head, it wasn’t hard to rub out another orgasm. It was times like these, he thought as he guiltily watched his semen wash down the drain, that he really hated his short refractory period. Just his luck, he’d get another boner while getting dressed.

(He didn’t, but that was only because Keith forced himself to think about _Zarkon_ in Outfit #3 instead of Lance. It worked, but it also killed his appetite until he got to the kitchen and the smell of Hunk’s homemade pancakes perked it right back up.)

After breakfast, Keith tried to slip off to the training room with his mom to kill time and continue _not_ thinking about Lance in Outfit #3, but Allura grabbed his arm and began to drag him towards the elevators.

“Since you’re going on the mission with Lance, you have to look the part, same as him,” she explained, not even seeming to notice Keith trying to break her grip. “Nothing nearly so... _provocative_ , of course, but what you’re wearing now is going to make you stand out.”

“As long as it’s quick,” Keith grumbled, giving up and letting her drag him away.

Thankfully, it was. Allura only had him try on a few things before she settled on his final outfit: black dress shoes, black slacks that hugged his legs and ass like a second skin, and a red button-up underneath a dark grey vest. Allura told him to unbutton the first three buttons of the shirt, but after that, she’d been satisfied and let him leave to change into his old Paladin armor for training and find his mother.

He found a small bit of relief as he practiced armed and unarmed close-range combat with Krolia. Neither of them talked much except to trade observations and tips, and time passed quickly in a haze of sweat, adrenaline, sore muscles, and endorphins. Before Keith knew it, Pidge was paging them over the intercom, telling them to stop training and take a shower or she’d lock them out of the bridge. Keith chuckled and did as she said, knowing from past experience that her threat was entirely genuine.

After another shower - and another quick wank because _sue him_ , Keith was about to be around Lance in stripper boots and short-shorts for the next few hours, he needed his hormone levels as low as possible - Keith changed into his clubbing outfit and walked up to the bridge, something akin to dread building every step he took closer.

It turned out his dread was for nothing. Lance was still wearing his normal clothes and jacket, sitting back in the Red Paladin’s chair with his eyes closed and one long leg crossed over the other. If he heard Keith coming in, he didn’t react, even when Keith passed by a bit closer than he needed to as he headed for the Black Paladin’s chair.

“Oh, Keith, I hope that’s not how you’re going to be wearing your hair…” Allura chided from her place on the control dias when he sat down.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Keith asked defensively, one hand coming up to feel the ends. He’d washed it twice today, and it was feeling softer and smoother than it had in a while.

“Let me style it for you,” Allura offered, not-so-subtly dodging his question. “It doesn’t even have to be complex! Just a braid or a ponytail. It just looks so messy when compared to your clothes...”

Keith frowned a bit self-consciously. He didn’t know the first thing about looking nice, but Allura obviously did. So did Lance, but surprisingly, his eyes were still closed. Keith was getting cold-shouldered harder than he’d ever been before; in the past, Lance had _never_ passed up the chance to engage in his favorite pastime of dissing Keith’s hair.

“Fine,” Keith muttered. He felt a lead weight in his stomach. “As long as it’s not too crazy.”

Allura beamed, and Keith spun his chair around to face the screen of stars before she could see his frown and ask about it. Or worse, send him a pitying look.

The meeting was short, thankfully, since the mission mostly was based entirely on Lance talking to someone. Keith and Lance would take a shuttle down to the planet together, park it a block or so away, and walk to the club. One of them would enter the line a few people ahead of the other so that they weren’t seen going in together, and then from there, they would stay separate until it was time to leave.

Lance was to find Daarvus as soon as he could and, at his discretion, approach him and strike up a conversation. Keith, meanwhile, was to stay no less than thirty feet away and not draw attention to himself unless absolutely necessary. When Lance got the information he wanted, he would excuse himself to the bathroom, and when Keith joined him a few minutes later, they would escape through the back exit and return to the ship as quickly as they could before Daarvus realized what had happened. If something went wrong, Lance would use the comm device he would have hidden on his person ( _where_ , Keith had no clue, since those stupid shorts definitely didn’t have pockets) to alert Keith and the other Paladins, who would be wearing comm devices the whole time as Keith fed them updates on how things were going.

It was a pretty loose plan, compared to what Keith was used to, but he trusted Lance’s ability to get the information he needed. It was _Daarvus_ doing something to mess everything up that Keith was worried about. What if he followed Lance to the bathroom? What if he saw the two leaving together? What if he tried to do something to Lance, like touch him? If even _one_ of Daarvus’ slimy fingers brushed against Lance’s skin...

Keith pushed down his anger and told himself that Lance knew what he was doing. His anger still burned in his chest, but he was able to refocus on the meeting. Allura was just wrapping everything up and told Lance, “If, for whatever reason, you feel unsafe or that you’ve blown your cover, signal Keith and get out of there. Your safety is more important than this information. Do you understand?”

If Keith’s eyes didn’t deceive him, Lance hesitated for just a millisecond before he nodded his head in agreement, his expression all grim determination. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything, and Keith frowned to himself, his apprehension about this mission only growing.

With that, Allura dismissed them. Lance was the first one out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title and song lyrics taken from:** "Let Me Make You Proud" by Jeremy Jordan (Varian)
> 
>  **Translations, in order of appearance:**  
>  (Note: "Galran" is Russian, "Altean" is [mostly] Welsh. The spellings for the Welsh in the fic is inaccurate for ease of pronunciation. Both were taken from Google Translate and may be inaccurate. Please let me know if this is the case, and I will try to fix it.)  
>  _Ya ponimayu, pochemu tebe nravitsya Lance. On onchen’ krasivyy._ = Я понимаю, почему тебе нравится Ланс. Он очень красивый. = I understand why you like Lance. He is very handsome.  
>  _Nenavizhu tebya!_ = Ненавижу тебя = I hate you
> 
>  **A/N:**  
>  in case i don't end up posting a smutty epilogue to this fic, i'll say it now: keith was right, lance rounds up his dick size. still, he is not a small boy. keith will definitely be a satisfied, horny young man. ;) speaking of keith being horny, i tried to keep the masturbation scenes as non-explicit as i could without being cliche or vague, but if you guys think i should bump the rating up to explicit, i would be more than happy to! i definitely don't want to make people uncomfortable.
> 
> also, i feel kinda bad for making the chapter song from a kids show (especially a really good one like tangled [which you should definitely check out if you have the time, it's on disney+ and kimcartoon.me if you like pirating shit like i do ;) ]) but this always gave off big Insecure!Lance vibes, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> i drew lance in the bathrobe from the changing room scene in chapter two, so lemme know if y'all wanna see it, i'll try to figure out a way to insert it into chapter two. i also might draw him in the other outfits (including the infamous Outfit #3, of course) and maybe draw keith too, but idk. i'm still trying to get used to my drawing tablet and clip studio paint tbh.
> 
> i don't think i have anything else to say? except for the obligitory warning that i don't know when i'll post the next chapter, but i have tomorrow and the day after off work, so hopefully i will be able to work on chapter 5 and get it formatted and posted soon. we're, like, halfway through, and next chapter we will get a LOT of pining/jealous keith. ;)) love y'all!! **_please give me kudos/reviews/comments/etc., they make my day :)_**


	5. Genghis Khan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So you have to watch your crush fuck up a pervert while waiting in line to get in a club, only for him to openly flirt with another, even bigger pervert...?_
> 
> (Or: Lance is too fucking pretty for his own good, and Keith is _this_ close to killing someone, but hey, at least everything is going okay wAIT SHIT--)

> _And the lights, they glow / Like I just lost the World War / And the scene slips away / With the evenness I fake / It’s a shit, old world / Cause I ~~don’t~~ really want you, girl / But you can’t be free / Cause I’m selfish, I’m obscene / I get a little bit Genghis Khan / Don’t want you to get it on / With nobody else but me_

Allura, surprisingly, kept her word and did little more than brush Keith’s hair and pull it back into a simple braid. She left most of his bangs framing his face, but he couldn’t deny that with the bulk of his hair tamed by Allura’s hands, he looked a lot more put-together.

“I’ll never understand why you don’t pull your hair back more often,” Allura mused as she secured the end of the braid with a black elastic. She stood back and smiled at her handiwork, then at Keith’s reflection. “It looks so much nicer, and it gets your hair out of your eyes.”

“I don’t mind my hair in my eyes,” Keith mumbled. It gave him a good excuse to not make eye contact, and he liked the weight of his loose hair on his neck and shoulders. “But thanks. It looks really nice.”

And it really did. It hadn’t taken too long either. Keith was quiet for a moment, debating with himself, before he asked, “Could I keep the hair tie?”

“Of course!” Allura agreed immediately. “I have _thousands_ of them, so if you ever need more or you lose that one, just ask!”

Keith nodded and brushed his fingers along the braid to feel the way she’d twisted his hair together. It didn’t give him any idea of how to do it himself, but he liked the feeling anyways.

“Sorry to sound like I’m kicking you out,” Allura started awkwardly, “but I agreed to help Lance with his make-up, and he’s probably wondering where I am by now.”

Keith froze. “Make-up?”

“Yes. Lance wanted to do it himself, but apparently, he couldn’t figure it out, so he asked me for my help this morning. I have to meet him soon, or we won’t have time before the mission. So I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

Keith stood up quickly. “Y-yeah, no problem. I’ll just... wait in the main lounge.”

Allura smiled and followed him to the door. “Alright, sounds good. I will see you soon!”

He nodded mutely and speed-walked away. If Allura noticed, he didn’t stick around to see it.

The next _varga_ seemed to pass much too slowly for Keith’s liking. He wanted to get out some of his energy sparring, but Allura had already warned him not to ruin his clothing or hair by working out, and Krolia seemed content to read a novel Pidge had lent her and occasionally glance up as Keith alternated between sitting next to her, leg jittering nervously, and pacing around the guest room she was staying in.

She only tried asking what was wrong one time. After Keith had stormed into her room and started pacing, she’d waited a few minutes for him to crack and talk to her about what was bothering him. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t, she sighed, marked her place in the paperback with a scrap piece of paper, and set it aside so she could properly meet Keith’s gaze.

_“Malen’kiy detenysh,_ what’s wrong?” she asked.

Keith glared at her, but it was half-hearted. “What do _you_ think is wrong?” he shot back sarcastically.

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked. But I’m guessing it has something to do with Lance, since I’ve rarely seen you get so worked up about a mission, especially one so simple.”

Keith blushed. Part of him had been hoping he wasn’t so transparent, but the other part was glad that she understood because now he didn’t have to explain what the sight of Lance in booty shorts and thigh-high boots had done to him. Though he was still plenty embarrassed that his mother had probably already guessed the exact effect. Galran noses were very strong, after all, and her nose wrinkled in a very particular way when she got too close to him when he’d just finished masturbating. He was ashamed how many times she’d had to do that recently when he’d only been back in Lance’s presence for barely a _quintant_.

“Yes, it’s Lance,” he admitted, embarrassed. He stopped pacing and studied his reflection in a nearby mirror rather than face his mother’s amused look.

After a moment of staring into his own troubled eyes, however, he swallowed and realized how much he’d changed. Not just physically but emotionally as well - though he’d definitely grown taller and more muscular, having lost his gangly, teenage limbs and some of the roundness of his face. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have readily admitted this to _Shiro_ , let alone his semi-estranged _mother_.

Maybe it was _because_ Krolia was his mother. Maybe Pidge and Hunk and Lance’s claims that their respective mothers had this uncanny knack of getting information out of them had some weight to it after all, but after a moment of thought, he knew that wasn’t it. He was getting better about being vulnerable around people and asking for advice. Krolia had been in a successful relationship with a human in the past, after all; maybe she could offer some advice?

General _romantic advice_ , Keith amended quickly. _I don’t want my mother to weigh in on how to stop being so sexually repressed or how to convince Lance to let me fuck him. Or get fucked by him. Both sound good…_

Thankfully, before Keith could contemplate one of the many hardships of being a switch (namely, deciding whether he wanted to bend Lance over and fuck him till he didn’t remember his own name or ride him like a glorified dildo) and (probably) get hard _again_ , Krolia interrupted. “Are you worried about Lance being unable to get the information we need?”

“...Not really,” Keith said, shaking his head and turning away from the mirror with a half-smile. “He could probably charm a rattlesnake into not biting him.”

Krolia chuckled. “Your father was the same way, though his charm was mostly accidental.” She frowned when Keith opened his mouth like he was about to change the subject. _“But_ we’re not talking about that. If not that, then what _are_ you worried about?”

_“I’m afraid I’m going to ruin everything by scooping Lance up and whisking him away to have my wicked way with him”_ didn’t sound very savory, so Keith told a half-truth. “I’m worried something’s going to go wrong. Like... what if Daarvus doesn’t know anything?”

“Then we’ll keep looking for someone who does,” Krolia replied calmly. “Kuron doesn’t have access to a ship like we do, so he is no doubt being forced to travel publicly. Someone is bound to notice a one-armed human that looks like a Paladin of Voltron.”

“And if he makes it to Haggar before we can get to him?” Keith challenged.

“Then we will lead a mission to recapture him. The team is not going to give up on Shiro, Keith, and neither are you. It might take a while, but we will get your brother back.”

“He’s not my brother,” Keith muttered. “Not really.”

“I disagree. The Galra have a saying: _‘Sem'ya nakhoditsya v svyazyakh, kotoryye vy delayete s drugimi.’”_

Keith frowned thoughtfully. “...‘Family is found in the relationships you make with others’,” he translated hesitantly.

“Exactly. Your father and I may not have had the chance to give you siblings, but it seems some of your friends have already filled that space. Shiro is your brother just as much as I am your mother, and I wish I had the chance to meet the man responsible for taking care of my son in my stead sooner. But I will meet him eventually, and you will have your brother back eventually. Do you know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Because you will do anything for your family. And so will the rest of the team. So will I.”

Keith smiled, and with his mother’s reassurances, he felt a bit better. But his nerves came back in full force when Allura’s voice came over the intercom, telling him to finish preparing and meet Lance down in Hangar Three to take a shuttle down to the planet the nightclub was on.

Stomach in knots, Keith stood and hugged his mother tightly. _“Pust’ vasha missiya budet bystroy i uspeshnoy,”_ she whispered in his ear.

_“Ya skoro vernus,”_ he assured. He paused. Then: _“Ya lyublyu tebya, Mama.”_

Krolia smiled widely and kissed his forehead before drawing back. _“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, synok.”_

He waved goodbye and walked down to Hangar Three, the warm fuzzies he got from talking with his mom quickly fading away with every step he got closer to the shuttle. By the time he stepped into the huge, mostly empty space, his palms and armpits and the nape of his neck were sweating. His alien deodorant and cologne would probably cover up any B.O., but oddly enough, that didn’t make him feel any better.

Lance was waiting by the ship already, which surprised Keith momentarily. He was usually pretty last-minute, especially when he was beautifying himself beforehand. But that surprise quickly turned into a (by now) frustratingly familiar arousal as he saw the damnable Outfit #3, and it only got worse as Keith got closer, drawing Lance’s attention from his phone and making him straighten from his casual lean against the ship.

Keith’s steps stuttered to a stop about ten feet away from Lance, and he felt his body grow uncomfortably hot as he took in the details of Lance’s face. Allura hadn’t been lying: Lance _was_ wearing make-up. It wasn’t super flashy, but it wasn’t totally subtle either. Eyeliner accentuated his top eyelid, ending in a sharp wing, and a bit of blue eyeshadow had been added around his eyes to make the dark blue of his irises pop more. His cheeks looked sharper, somehow, and it was only Keith’s limited knowledge of makeup that told him it was the work of some expert contour and a bit of highlighter. His lips were a slightly darker red than they normally were, and shined slightly under the bright lights of the hangers. For a second, Keith thought Lance’s freckles were glowing before he realized that no, they’d just been covered up by a very thin layer of glitter.

Keith gawked for a good few seconds until Lance shifted uncomfortably and looked away, his cheeks darkening. Shaking his head, Keith cleared his throat and stammered a quick, “Y-you look good.”

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled back. “You do too.” He glanced back and smirked slightly as his eyes slowly traced Keith’s form up and down. It seemed almost deliberate, and Keith burned underneath Lance’s gaze. “Who knew you could clean up so well?”

Keith shrugged. “Allura picked out the clothes and did my hair,” he demurred. “She did way more than I did.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

They shared a quick laugh and fell quiet, the silence quickly turning awkward. Keith cleared his throat and waved his hand at the ship. “Uh, we should go if we wanna stick to the plan.”

Lance nodded and rounded the ship to let himself into the passenger side while Keith climbed into the pilot’s seat. They got themselves settled, and the comms flared to life when the ship did. _“Ready to go?”_ Allura’s voice asked.

“Yep,” Keith answered, gripping the yoke of the ship and flipping a few switches to make the ship start to hover off the ground.

_“Opening hangar doors. Good luck, Paladins.”_

“Thanks, Princess,” Lance said. “Have fun sitting around, doing nothing for a few hours.” He grinned, jokingly.

_“As long as_ you _don’t get into trouble, yeah,”_ Pidge snorted.

Lance’s expression darkened. “What, no ribbing on Keith? He’s more likely to mess up than me.”

Keith scowled and shot Lance a glare instead of guiding the ship outside like he was supposed to be doing. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Lance opened his mouth like he was going to answer, but Allura’s voice interrupted. _“May I remind you that you only have a varga to get inside the club before Daarvus arrives and potentially picks out his next lover before Lance? Do not waste time arguing.”_

Keith let out a quiet growl at the choice of words and shut up, focusing on the ship. Lance simply muttered a quick, “Yeah, got it. See you guys on the other side,” and flipped off the comms. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw him settle back in his seat, arms crossed and body half-turned away from his pilot.

From then on, the trip was silent. If Keith had been by himself or with one of the quieter members of the team, maybe he wouldn’t have minded. But with someone like Lance, who would fill the quiet in a heartbeat if he’d been with any other person, it was suffocating. He suddenly understood why some people couldn’t stand it.

Not that Keith didn’t try to break it. Granted, he only tried once, but that was just because he knew a lost cause when he saw it. If Lance wasn’t willing to talk about getting all dolled up for a party, he wouldn’t want to talk about _anything_.

They landed in a large ship hub and paid the ridiculously expensive fee for parking with only a small grumble from Keith and an eye roll from Lance. Their ship was small enough that it blended in with all the other ships, and only someone who’d been in close contact with Voltron would recognize it as an Altean pod. Satisfied that their ride wouldn’t be compromised, Keith led the way to the nightclub.

The city they were in reminded Keith of almost every big city in the US: noisy, crowded, and slightly smelly once they passed into what was obviously the red-light district. He didn’t see anything that constituted a brothel, thankfully, but there were a few aliens loitering on street corners, looking intentionally provocative and making suggestive comments when Keith and Lance passed by. Most of them focused on Lance, naturally, but a surprising amount of them also tried to proposition Keith, too.

One had even been bold enough to step into Keith’s path and grope one of his pecs. “Oh, _wow_ ,” they groaned, licking their lips. “Wanna put these muscles to good use, baby?”

Keith scowled fiercely and shoved the alien away. “Back off,” he hissed. “I don’t want to have sex with you. Go bother someone else.”

The alien huffed and glared right back. “No need to be so _rude_ ,” they muttered, but they thankfully turned away to find their next client.

Keith looked up to find Lance staring at him with an angry expression. Before Keith could ask what he was so mad about, he turned sharply and started striding away. Keith had to half-jog in order to catch up, but the perfect view of Lance’s ass was almost worth it. He tried to convince himself that he started hanging back more so it looked like he and Lance arrived separately rather than because he wanted an uninterrupted view.

About ten minutes after leaving their ship, they found the club. Before they’d even reached it, however, Keith could hear it. The crowd waiting to be let inside was audible from almost a block away, and he could feel the bass in his shoes as he took his place in the back of the line. A line which wrapped around the side of the building and only seemed to move every five minutes or so. Keith groaned.

Lance was two people ahead of Keith, a distance that made him look like he was there alone but let Keith keep a close eye on the people around him. And it became obvious almost as soon as Lance settled into his spot that he would _need_ to keep a close eye on the other people in line. Lance seemed to be impervious to their stares, settling his weight on one hip and pulling out his phone to kill the time. But Keith saw the way they studied him and smirked like sharks who’d just smelt blood, and his hands clenched.

It only took a few shifts in position for someone to approach Lance. It was a short, curvy, but masculine alien whose species Keith had only seen a few times and whose name escaped him. The alien had large, blunt teeth arranged in a crooked smile and skin so pale it almost seemed to glow blue. Keith wanted to punch him as he cleared his throat and snagged Lance’s attention.

He was close enough to hear their conversation clearly, even over the ever-increasing noise of the club music and line of people around them. “Well, well. Good evening, beautiful. What’s a fine piece of meat like you doing in a place like this?”

“Waiting to get inside so someone attractive can buy me a drink,” Lance answered, his gaze already going back to his phone.

“Well, look no further. I’d love to buy you something,” the alien said in a low voice that was probably supposed to be seductive. Keith felt an inhuman growl building in his throat.

“I said someone _attractive_ ,” Lance sneered, looking down his nose at the alien. Even without his boots, Lance would’ve towered over him; with them, the alien barely cleared Lance’s elbow. “If you want to get laid, look elsewhere. Some people - myself included - have actual standards.”

The alien’s expression changed rather quickly after that comment. He grabbed Lance’s elbow to keep him from bringing his phone up again. “Listen, you little sl--”

Lance moved almost too fast for Keith’s eyes to properly follow. The alien’s comment turned into a pained shout as Lance shoved him against the club wall and secured his arms behind his back. A few of the people who’d been standing nearby gave surprised gasps and stepped back to allow the two some space.

“I said, look elsewhere, _puta_ ,” Lance hissed near the alien’s ear, almost too quiet for Keith to hear. Keith was too far away to see the exact color of Lance’s eyes, but he knew from a few past battles that they were nearly black, a hurricane brewing over the ocean.

_Hot,_ Keith thought, his pants tightening. A second later, his bigger head wondered, _Wait, since when is Lance good at hand-to-hand?_

Just as fast as he’d pinned the alien, Lance let him go. He stumbled away rather quickly, and Lance returned to scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened. The crowd around them seemed reluctant to do the same, but within a few minutes, everything was back to normal. No one tried to talk to Lance again until they reached the door almost a _varga_ later.

Keith wasn’t sure what the purpose of bouncers were back on Earth (he wasn’t a big fan of drunk people, crowds, and/or dancing), and he didn’t know what their purpose was on this planet, either, because a group of what looked to be high schoolers slipped inside with barely a glance from the burly, four-armed woman guarding the door. Maybe they were regulars, or maybe someone who’d walked in earlier had warned her about the altercation because when Lance stepped up to be let in, she held him up.

“What’s the problem, ma’am?” Lance asked politely, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Where’s your ID?” the bouncer asked instead of answering his question. “No ID, no entrance.”

Lance looked past the bouncer and back up at her, pointedly raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t asked anyone else for an ID.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t scare off one of our regulars by body slamming him,” the bouncer snarled. “Now, ID, or I’ll body slam _you_.”

Lance rolled his eyes and muttered something about how he’d barely _touched_ the guy, but Keith hardly heard any of it when he stuck his hand down the front of his pants and seemed to root around for a second before revealing a small card and holding it up for the woman to see.

She looked disgusted by where Lance had pulled it out of - Keith probably should’ve been disgusted too, but the only thing he could think of was putting _his_ hand down Lance’s pants to see what _else_ was hiding in those tiny shorts - but for a few tense seconds, she squinted closely at it. Lance looked bored. Keith tried to be nervous instead of aroused and mostly succeeded. Finally, however, she grunted and stepped aside to let Lance in.

Lance’s bright exterior reappeared, like it’d never been gone. “Thanks!” he chirped, and with a confident strut, he disappeared into the noisy, neon-tinted club.

Keith felt his chest tighten in panic. The longer Lance was out of sight, the more time Daarvus or some other equally sleazy alien had to try something. It didn’t help that the alien standing in between Keith and the door seemed to move at the speed of a slug. Keith wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t just imagining that, either, because the bouncer looked a bit impatient too as she waited for the stick-like creature to step forward and show some sort of tattoo on their inner wrist, then duck inside when the bouncer waved them in.

When the bouncer looked back to the line, Keith was already standing in front of her. She frowned suspiciously at him. “You with that brown-skinned one in the hooker boots?” she asked.

Keith fought not to tense up or scowl. “No,” he answered evenly. “Can I go in now?”

“Really?” she asked. “Cause you look really similar, and I’ve never seen your kind before.”

“I don’t know him,” Keith insisted.

“ID,” she demanded.

Keith pulled the fake out of his pocket and crossed his arms when she took it. He didn’t care if the bouncer didn’t let him in, to be totally honest: Keith was great at getting into places people didn’t want him to be, and if the window he’d spotted near the back of the building was a bathroom like Keith suspected it was, it’d be super easy too. What he _was_ worried about, however, was the bouncer taking the whole night trying to decide whether or not he could go in through the front doors.

A few moments later, the alien hummed and handed Keith’s ID back to him. “Go on in,” she said. “But if I hear you and that prostitute of yours are causing trouble, I’m gonna make you wish you’d never step foot inside the Midnight Den ever again, understand?”

Keith had faced down beasts much more ferocious than her, and it was all he could do not to laugh or roll his eyes at her weak threat. “Got it,” he said flatly, and he walked inside.

He got blinded by a light flashing over the door almost immediately. Another followed in close succession, and Keith shaded his eye with a hand, scowling. Looking around the club for Lance, he was suddenly reminded why he hated parties or any sort of gathering that included loud music and large crowds with no sense of personal space.

The main room for the club seemed to be a pretty standard set-up. The dance floor was roughly in the middle of the huge space and definitely the heart of the crowd pushing up against Keith as he wandered deeper into the club. On the wall left of the door was a huge bar, the second-most crowded spot. Several workers, most of whom had multiple arms, stirred and served drinks with blurry efficiency to their mostly-drunk patrons. Most of the right side of the room seemed to be multiple tiers of booths and tables. A staircase led up to a balcony populated by only a handful of couples (all of whom were getting pretty handsy) and a hallway blocked by another burly, multi-armed bouncer. Keith didn’t want to know what was going on up there.

The back of the room housed a small stage for the DJ and a few speakers that were taller than Keith was. On either side were two hallways, one of which Keith knew led to the bathrooms after briefly studying the floorplans Pidge had given them last night during the meeting. The other, he guessed, led to some sort of backstage area.

Keith settled near a corner and spotted Lance at the bar, half-bent over the counter as he ordered and seemingly flirted with the alien serving his drink. Keith’s blood simmered unpleasantly, especially when he caught several other patrons eyeing Lance as well. Growling low in his throat, Keith leaned against an empty table and alternated between looking around for Daarvus and making sure Lance was doing okay. He was, of course, because he was _Lance_ in a place _made_ for flirty smooth-talkers, but that didn’t make Keith feel any better.

It took another minute, but Keith spotted Daarvus emerging from the second-floor hallway and stop at the edge of the balcony. He seemed to be scanning the crowd, if Keith’s Galra-enhanced vision wasn’t mistaken, and after a moment, Keith watched as his eyes froze on someone at the bar. Keith didn’t even need to follow his gaze to know who he was looking at. Even among a crowd of people, some of whom were dressed even sexier than him, Lance stood out.

Keith called upon every failed anger-management strategy he could remember as he watched Daarvus smirk slowly and slink down the stairs, heading for the bar. He wished he could give Lance some sort of a heads-up, but Lance wasn’t wearing a comm in case Daarvus saw it or he tripped up and forgot who he was talking to.

Right as Daarvus caught Lance’s attention, there was a small burst of static in his right ear. He jumped, and Pidge’s voice filtered through the tiny device he’d forgotten was plugged into his ear. _“Yo, Keith, it’s been almost a varga and a half, what the hell is going on down there?”_

Keith glared at Daarvus’ smirk as he and Lance began to talk. “Daarvus is talking to Lance. Everything’s going okay.” _For now._

_“Really?”_ Pidge asked. _“Then why did you forget to contact us?”_

“Nothing to report,” Keith lied. “And it’d look pretty suspicious if I started talking to myself. At least in here it’s loud enough no one can tell.”

_“It’s also almost too loud to hear you,”_ Allura complained. _“Pidge, can you mute the background noise?”_

Pidge sighed loudly. _“That’s not really how this works, Princess.”_ She paused. Nervously, she added, _“But I’ll see what I can do.”_ Keith was left to imagine the glare Allura had sent her and shivered in sympathy.

_“You said Daarvus has initiated contact?”_ Allura said, voice a bit tight with irritation.

“Yes.” Keith’s lip curled with disgust. “He’s flirting pretty heavily, too. He’s taken the bait. Everything else is up to Lance.”

_“Do you think he can do it?”_ Pidge asked. _“I mean, I’ve seen Lance flirt before. It doesn’t go well. And he’s the furthest thing from subtle, too.”_

Keith felt a flash of indignation on Lance’s behalf. “Hey, wasn’t it you who agreed to let him do this?”

_“Uh, yeah, but only because he_ insisted _he be the one to do it. And because no one else wanted to go.”_

“I _offered,”_ Lotor’s voice joined in, sounding defensive.

_“You’re_ literally _the leader of the Galra Empire! Your face is_ everywhere! _Daarvus would’ve recognized you in a heartbeat.”_

_“Yeah, dude. Sorry,”_ Hunk apologized.

Lotor huffed. _“I suppose you have a point...”_ he muttered testily.

“The _real_ point is, Lance is doing fine so you don’t have to worry,” Keith snapped.

To his surprise, Hunk piped up again. _“I’m with Keith on this one, guys. Lance is a_ really _good smooth-talker when he wants to be. We got caught sneaking out of the Garrison one time, and he managed to convince the disciplinary teacher to let us go with just one afternoon of cleaning duty instead of a whole week of it.”_

_“If you’re so sure of him, then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”_ Pidge accused.

_“Because Keith’s right! What if Daarvus tries something, o-or something goes wrong?! They’re all alone down there, and Keith’s only got his Galra knife on him! If they get in a fight--”_

“--we’ll be fine,” Keith assured quickly. “I’ve fought against multiple attackers with just this knife before, and I can do it again.” His only real worry would be Lance, who wasn’t armed at all. But if that display outside the club had been any indication, he might not _need_ one.

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes._ Have some faith in us.”

_“I_ have _faith, but I_ also _have anxiety!”_ Hunk whimpered. _“At least stay on with us so I know you’re okay. How’re they doing?”_

“Still fine,” Keith bit out, trying not to sound annoyed. He moved his head to get a better look. “Looks like Daarvus is ordering them some more drinks. Did we debrief Lance on what drinks he should avoid?”

_“There are none,”_ Pidge assured. _“Not many species have food or drinks that’re poisonous to humans.”_

_“Yes, it’s honestly shocking,”_ Allura jumped in. _“The only species with a wider pallet than yours is, well, us Alteans. And even we draw the line at some foods.”_

_“Hey, I maintain that fried crickets aren’t that bad once you try them!”_ Hunk protested. _“They’re actually really good when they’re deep-fried.”_

The team made various sounds of disgust and protest. Even Keith gagged. “Hunk, that’s disgusting.”

_“You’ve never even tried them! Besides, Pidge told me you ate a lizard once!”_

“Pidge, you were supposed to take that secret to your _grave!”_

The Green Paladin cackled. _“Hell, no, that was too good to keep to myself! And, really, it’s_ your _fault for thinking I’d keep my promise.”_

Keith couldn’t deny she had a point, but he wasn’t going to lose that easily. “Whatever. And I didn’t eat it cause I _wanted_ to, Hunk. I ran out of groceries in the middle of a really bad storm, so I... I improvised.”

Hunk was quiet for a moment. Then: _“Keith, I really worry about you sometimes, buddy.”_

Keith blinked. “What?”

_“Nothing, nothing. So, uh... Are they still talking?”_

“I’d be concerned if they weren’t,” Keith said sarcastically. He glanced over at the two of them and scowled. “Lance keeps touching him.”

_“Oh, ew! I don’t want to hear about Lance groping some creep!”_ Pidge shouted.

“Not like that!” Keith hissed, his face going red. “Just, like, his arm or whatever.”

_“Yeah, that tracks,”_ Hunk hummed. _“He likes being close to the people he’s flirting with. But if he’s touching Daarvus, that’s a good sign.”_

“How’s that?” Keith asked through gritted teeth, his eyes practically glowing green as he glared at the two.

_“Means Daarvus is flirting back. Lance doesn’t touch people unless they seem like they’d be okay with it, and he doesn’t push if someone’s uncomfortable.”_

_Of course he doesn’t,_ Keith thought with a huff. _He’s too damn considerate for someone so flirty._

“Then it’s still going fine,” he said aloud. “I’m going to try to get closer. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

_“Give us updates every ten minutes or so,”_ Allura commanded. Her voice brokered no room for argument. _“If you don’t, we’ll be forced to assume the worst.”_

“Got it,” Keith agreed. “Keith out.”

He heard the tell-tale click of a disconnected comm, and he started working his way closer to the bar, ignoring the uncomfortable crawl under his skin as his body brushed against someone else’s. By the time he claimed a spot within sight-distance of Lance and his mark, he was ready for a drink. But he couldn’t drink on the job, so he signaled the bartender for one of the very few non-alcoholic drinks they served.

“Designated pilot?” the bartender joked, having to yell over the noise of the other patrons and the music from the dance floor.

“Something like that,” Keith agreed, handing over the money and glancing over at Lance.

He sipped on his drink and tried to not stare so blatantly. Now that he was closer, Daarvus might notice; though, honestly, Keith doubted that, considering he always left at least one pair of his eyes constantly trained on Lance. His sleazy smile hadn’t faltered, either, and Keith glowered into his drink.

A few more minutes passed in slow agony. A few people gave Keith strange looks for drinking a non-alcoholic drink all on his own, but no one approached: a testament to his Resting Bitch Face and Don’t-Fuck-With-Me Aura that only got more intense the longer he watched Lance flirt.

_He’s practically in Daarvus’_ lap, Keith thought sullenly. _And honestly, who puts their hand on someone’s arm in regular conversation?_

But he couldn’t deny that Lance was doing well. Daarvus didn’t seem to suspect a single thing, and judging by the bright, summer blue of Lance’s eyes, he was playing right into Lance’s hands. Keith wished that Lance had a comm or maybe that he could read lips. Focusing on something else would at least make staring at the two of them a bit more bearable.

Daarvus’ grin suddenly stretched wider after Lance laughed at some joke he’d made. Placing his hand on what Keith assumed was Lance’s knee, he leaned closer than he had to and said something else. Lance’s fingers flexed - a microscopic tell, a nervous tic - and he laughed again, though Keith could tell even without hearing it that it was fake. Hopefully, Daarvus couldn’t.

Daarvus pointed up towards the second level balcony, and Lance hesitated just the slightest bit before shaking his head. He gestured to his drink and laughed again, tension building in his shoulders. Keith’s gums itched, a sure sign that his teeth were turning to fangs. It happened very rarely and was usually a sign that Keith needed to calm down, but right now, he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

Daarvus held up a hand, his expression a facsimile of understanding, and gestured for the bartender to come over. He gestured to Lance’s now-empty glass and forked over some GAC, ignoring Lance’s protests. Another gesture, this time to the stage. Lance had to turn in his seat to see what Daarvus was pointing to.

The bartender came back, Lance’s refill in hand. He went unnoticed by Lance, but Daarvus leaned back to slide the glass closer. Instead of handing it off to its recipient, however, he set it down on the counter and fiddled with his coat sleeve. A button came off with a slight tug, and Keith watched as he dropped it into Lance’s drink, never taking his eyes off the other. His predator’s grin widened.

Keith’s sclera glowed yellow, and he bared his newly-formed fangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title and song lyrics taken from:** "Genghis Khan" by Miike Snow
> 
> **Translations, in order of appearance:**  
>  (Note: "Galran" is Russian, "Altean" is [mostly] Welsh. The spellings for the Welsh in the fic is inaccurate for ease of pronunciation. Both were taken from Google Translate and may be inaccurate. Please let me know if this is the case, and I will try to fix it.)  
>  _Sem'ya nakhoditsya v svyazyakh, kotoryye vy delayete s drugimi_ = Семья находится в отношениях, которые вы делаете с другими = exactly what keith said lmao  
>  _Pust’ vasha missiya budet bystroy i uspeshnoy_ = Пусть ваша миссия будет быстрой и успешной = May your mission be successful.  
>  _Ya skoro vernus. Ya lyublyu tebya, Mama._ = Я скоро вернусь. Я люблю тебя, мама. = I'll be back soon. I love you, Mom.  
>  _Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, synok_ = Я тоже тебя люблю, сынок = I love you too, son
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER ON SPOTIFY!!!! [here it is, lads B)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1oPsMeinY48ncaOZmlMoRN?si=eeBKd4qdQuuHmoYGnlEv_g) i had a bit of a harder time with this chapter, hence the playlist. i literally listened to these exact songs while writing this chapter. it's three hours long, so it'll definitely last longer than it'll take to read this chapter. (i have no self-control, it seems.)
> 
> (also bonus points if you can catch the small song reference i snuck in while klance is trying to get inside the club. it's one of the ones in the playlist so it shouldn't be impossible to find ;) )
> 
> uhhhhhhhh idk what else to say? no clue when the next chapter's gonna be out, but hopefully it'll be out soon. i'm not losing inspiration for this fic, just getting tired between working and relaxing/visiting my friends on my off days. i go back to school soon (maybe??? i still have no clue if we're doing in-person or online or both because everyone's saying something different) so wish me luck!! hopefully i'll be able to finish this before, but who knows.
> 
> thanks to bre for editing and suggesting some of the songs i put on the playlist. and thank you to all y'all for reading this and leaving comments and kudos. love you all!!!!!! **_please leave me more comments n' stuff cause it makes me go aHHHH but in a good way!!_**


	6. Welcome to the Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So you've just coldcocked your crush's informant, started a bar fight, and now your crush is mad at you...?_
> 
> (Or: Keith loses it, wins a fight, pisses Lance off to no end, and gets a bit of perspective and advice from someone who knows Lance best.)

> _Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here everyday / You learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play / If you got a hunger for what you see, you’ll take it eventually / You can have anything you want, but you better not take it from me / In the jungle, welcome to the jungle / Watch it bring you to your knees / Oh, I’m gonna watch you bleed!_

Keith felt strangely calm as he shoved his way towards Daarvus and Lance. He got that way sometimes, when he was really angry. It was the calm before the storm, the split-second moment of peace before the first shot was fired. His vision was sharp and tunneled, the colors limited to red and shades of grey as his human traits surrendered to his Galran ones. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he doubted it was good.

Maybe ten feet from his goal, and his predator’s calm was shattered as Lance turned and took a sip from his spiked drink. It seemed to happen in slow-motion, his red lips still faking a half-grin from whatever Daarvus had been saying while making what would be the last mistake of his pathetic life, but even then, Keith wasn’t fast enough.

_“NO!”_ he yelled, but the music was too loud. Lance’s glass touched his too-red, too-perfect mouth, and Keith watched, helpless, as his throat bobbed around the first gulp.

Keith’s skin burned. He let out a wordless roar, and the crowd between him and Lance began to scream and scramble out of the way. Lance finally turned and choked on his drink as he saw Keith marching towards him, murderous intention burning in his golden eyes. Daarvus was quick to follow Lance’s lead, and Keith felt a wicked grin grace his lips when he saw the pure terror in his four eyes.

Lance stood and tried to block Keith’s path, his mouth moving quickly, but whatever he said sounded a million lightyears away. Keith’s grin faltered and he knocked the drink out of his hand. It shattered against the bar and splashed their legs with smelly alcohol. He saw Lance’s eyebrows begin to knot in protest, but before he could try saying anything else, Keith brushed past him and refocused on Daarvus. He needed to move quickly, before whatever was in that drink began to affect Lance.

Daarvus finally snapped out of his paralyzed reverie and jumped out of his chair, moving backwards through a crowd that easily parted around him. He probably asked Keith who the hell he was or what the hell he was doing or something like that, but Keith didn’t bother to answer. He simply curled his hand into a fist, nails biting into his palms, and aimed for the connection between Daarvus’ jaw and neck.

The sucker-punch landed with a satisfying _crack!_ of bone-on-bone. Daarvus’ head jerked back, and for a single moment, Keith thought maybe he would shake it off and begin to fight back. But the moment passed, and Daarvus crumpled to the floor, the shock to his system too much to stay conscious.

Muffled screams came from all around them. The crowd around the bar scrambled away from Keith as fast as they could, and Keith watched them go, his dissociation lingering even as his anger began to fade. Someone touched his arm, and he jerked around, fists at the ready, but it was just Lance.

He lowered his hand quickly and tried to focus on Lance. “Are you okay?” he asked, then louder when Lance made a confused face. He supposed the screaming and club music was too loud.

Instead of smiling and assuring him that he was fine, Lance’s expression settled on fury, the kind of fury usually directed at a troop of Galra soldiers, not a teammate that had just saved him from being drugged. Before Keith could remember that an angry Lance was a dangerous one, Keith’s face jerked a few inches to the side, and his cheek stung.

It was silent between them for a moment. By now, half the club was scrambling for the doors. Security would probably come by soon to kick them out or turn them over to law enforcement. All of that was lost on Keith as he gawked down at Lance - because, somehow, he’d regained the few inches of height he had on the other despite Lance’s boots. “Did you just _slap_ me?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Lance shouted, “I did! Because you just _ruined_ everything! I almost had what I wanted!”

“He was about to _drug_ you, Lance!”

“I _know!”_

Keith blinked. “You-- You do?”

“Yes! I was _counting_ on it, you moron!”

Keith blinked again, and this time, his eyesight blurred back to normal. He could see the blue of Lance’s eyes again, but they were still the churning, angry color his enemies must see before he gunned them down. He felt a shiver run down his spine: from fear or arousal, he couldn’t tell.

“Why would you--?”

“To get him to loosen up, dumbass! He was catching onto me and getting impatient, so I thought if I played along and pretended to get horny, I could get him someplace private, tie him up, and demand answers! And I could’ve done it too, if you hadn’t decided to Galra out and ruin everything! Now our target’s out cold, and we’ve gotta get out of here before they call the space police!”

“Galra out?”

“Look at your hands, dumbass!”

Keith looked down, and even in the dim, swirling club lights, he could see the lavender color receding from the backs of his hands. His nails, normally cut short to keep from accidentally scratching his mother while they grappled, were long and pointed like his mother’s normally were, but they, too, slowly shrunk and dulled back to their normal size.

He looked back up at Lance, who was still scowling fiercely. He was about to say something - what, he wasn’t sure - but he saw Lance look over his shoulder and curse under his breath. “Have your existential crisis later,” he snapped. “We’ve got company because of your stupid stunt.”

Keith turned, and sure enough, the bouncer from the entrance was shoving her way through the panicking crowd, a few similarly-muscled aliens behind her. They didn’t appear to have guns, but with those extra pairs of arms and the sheer size and number of them, it would be tough to fight all of them at once. He had a weapon, sure, but Lance didn’t.

Instinctively, he pushed Lance behind him only to have Lance shove him out of the way again. “What the hell are you doing?” Lance demanded. “I can take care of _myself!”_

“You don’t have your bayard!” Keith protested. “Those heels might look like they’re weapons, but they’re not gonna do jackshit to those guys. Just stay behind me, and I can--”

Lance punched his arm, hard, and closed his eyes. Brow furrowed in concentration, he stretched his hand out and flexed it a few times. Keith wanted to see what he was doing, but the bouncers were clear of the crowd now and they’d be within punching distance in just a few seconds. He drew his knife from its hiding spot in his pants and willed it to be a shortsword.

There was a flash of light in his peripheral, and suddenly Lance was holding the Red Bayard. Keith gaped at him as it flashed again, and suddenly he was holding a broadsword longer than his arm. Keith’s jaw dropped further, and for a split second, Lance looked smug. Then, he spun around and hit the first bouncer in the face with the flat of his blade.

The bouncer went stumbling backward into the alien behind her, and the two floundered to the ground in a pile of too-many limbs. Lance turned his attention to another bouncer, but this one was prepared. They ducked under his swipe and tried to move in closer, but Lance’s leg whipped up out of nowhere and slammed into their side, in the soft spot between their ribcage and hipbone.

Bouncer #3 flinched, but Keith didn’t get to see what happened next. Bouncer #4 and 5 lunged for him, and he had to backpedal out of the way before they could grab him. A quick swipe of his shortsword sent #5 away, hissing as she clutched her now-injured hand, but #4 managed to get two quick punches to Keith’s back before he could dodge.

The two starbursts of pain were registered with a grunt, and Keith turned to punch #4’s face with his free hand in retaliation. It caught them in the nose and sent them flying with a horrible snapping sound. Whatever their nose had looked like before, it would never look that way again. They shouted in pain, but Keith knew they wouldn’t be down for long.

He glanced over at Lance. Bouncer #2 and #3 were already down, sprawled on the floor a few steps away and unconscious, but #1, the bouncer from the door, was still advancing on him, ducking between his powerful but slightly clumsy swipes and stabs to try and close the distance.

Keith started forward to help him, but #5 reappeared and, after a bit of struggling, managed to toss his sword out of reach. A fist slammed into the side of his face, but he shook it off quickly and ducked underneath #5’s arms to grab her leg. Before she could start pummeling him again, he sunk down to his knees and pulled as hard as he could.

#5 stumbled back a few steps, trying to right herself, but Keith had caught her off-balance and off-guard. She fell to the floor and began trying to get back up. Keith, however, wasn’t going to let her go so easily. One pair of arms focused on punching every part of Keith she could reach while the other tried and failed to pry Keith’s hands off of her. Trying his best to ignore the pain, he hooked his leg around the one he’d captured and began to move.

#5 apparently didn’t have jiu jitsu where she came from because she panicked and flailed wildly as Keith skillfully moved from half-guard to mount and locked his thighs around her head. With a roll, he was on his back, her head trapped in a triangle made with Keith’s legs. He squeezed them together and slowed the rush of blood to her brain. He counted to ten and let go, but she had stopped struggling at around the six-second mark.

He sprung to his feet and grabbed his sword, but Lance didn’t need his help with the last bouncer. He’d been disarmed at some point, but Keith watched as he kneed the alien in the face and punched her square in the eye when her head bounced upright. Her arms moved up to try and shield her face, but Lance was two steps ahead of her. As soon as they were out of the way, he whirled around and kicked her square in the crotch.

Keith almost winced in sympathy as she tumbled to the floor, all four hands abandoning her face to cup her injured privates. He didn’t know what she’d had there, but obviously, Lance had hit it dead-on. She rolled around in pain, howling, and Lance turned to face him.

Other than a split lip and a bruise developing below his right eye, he seemed fine. With a satisfied smirk, he picked up his bayard and sauntered over to Keith. “Still think I can’t handle myself?” he asked, twirling his bayard expertly and tucking it into the front of his shorts.

Keith swallowed thickly and shook his head. “W-we should go,” he coughed. “Before law enforcement gets here.”

Lance pouted but led the way out of the club. Ironically enough, they still ended up using the same exit they’d always planned to. Keith wanted to laugh, but he had a feeling Lance’s temper would return as soon as the adrenaline and post-win high wore off.

They made it back to the ship without incident, but they had to take a small detour when they saw a squadron of sleek ships with flashing yellow lights and loud sirens streaking towards the club. They wouldn’t have long before their descriptions were given to the police, and from there, it would be a _lot_ harder to leave the planet undetected. Keith just hoped no one recognized them as Paladins of Voltron, former or current or otherwise. Then again, there weren’t a lot of humans or human-like species in space. Allura would probably kill them if she had to issue a statement explaining why two Defenders of the Universe started a bar (club?) fight, or what they were doing there in the first place.

Finally, sweating and panting and aching, they reached the ship, and Keith barely gave them enough time to buckle up before shooting off into space. Lance waited until they were out of the planet’s atmosphere and the ship had stopped shaking before flicking on the comms.

As expected, they were met with auditory pandemonium. Keith winced, his hearing still sensitive from his ‘Galra out’, as Lance had called it, and Lance struggled to shout over the team’s concern, “We’re fine, guys, calm down! We’re on our way back to the Castleship now and we’ll explain more there. For now, just know both of us are fine. A bit banged up, but fine.”

_“Banged up?”_ Allura repeated. _“Why, what happened that you got ‘banged up’?”_

Lance’s fury returned with a harsh scowl. “What else? _Keith_ happened.”

“I was trying to save you!” Keith protested. “How the hell was _I_ supposed to know it was all a part of your idiotic plan?!”

“By _trusting_ me!” Lance retorted, turning in his seat to face Keith better. The open comms channel was forgotten rather quickly. “I’m not some damsel who needs a knight in shining spandex to save me!”

“I’m not even _wearing_ spandex!” It was a dumb point to argue, but Lance had always managed to effortlessly wiggle his way under Keith’s skin and make him forget all higher forms of thought. “And I don’t think you’re a damsel in distress, I _know_ you’re capable. But he was going to _drug_ you, Lance! Even if you _knew_ it was going to happen--”

“You know, unlike _you_ , I actually did a bit of _research_ before this mission!” Lance interrupted. “Yeah! And you know what I found out? Apparently, whatever date-rape drugs we use back on Earth are lethal to basically every other species, so they use antihistamines instead. Do you know what antihistamines are?”

The name rang a bell in the back of Keith’s head, but before he could remember, Lance answered for him. “Anti-allergy medication!” he shouted. “One of the side-effects is drowsiness, and combined with alcohol, that’s usually enough to space-roofie any other species! But guess what, Keith? It doesn’t work on humans because we’re a lot less sensitive to antihistamines. Daarvus tried feeding me a _child-sized_ dose of off-brand space Benadryl, and you jumped in and started a bar fight because of it! You _ruined_ my chance to get Kuron’s location for literally _no fuckin’ reason!”_

He punched Keith in the arm, hard, and the ship gave a small jerk. Keith stabbed the autopilot button and turned his chair to face Lance fully. “How the hell did you know he wouldn’t’ve used another drug?” he demanded. “You didn’t _know_ for sure that he was gonna use something harmless, and you let it happen anyways!”

“Of course I didn’t know for sure, but I _did_ know that humans can handle basically _any_ space drug or poison thrown our way! I was willing to take my chances!”

“You can’t _do_ that, Lance!”

“Why, because I’m too _weak_ to handle myself?!”

“Of course not, but--!”

“Because _you_ need the ego boost of saving me every time something bad happens?”

“No--!”

“Then _what_ , Keith?!”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE TOO IMPORTANT TO LOSE!” Keith bellowed.

Lance’s eyes went wide. Silence reigned for what felt like an eternity but was probably only about a minute. Then, Pidge’s voice broke in. _“...Um. We see you guys on the radar. Are you, like… ready to land?”_

Keith turned sharply and took back manual control of the ship. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Open Hangar Three for us.”

They landed in complete silence. Keith stormed out as soon as the ship was turned off, but he didn’t hear Lance following. Krolia was standing out in the hallway, but he slapped away her attempt at a hug, making up some excuse about needing to shower. She must’ve seen the Galra-purple spots lingering on the backs of his hands because she let him go with a deep frown.

He didn’t see anybody else on the way to his room, thankfully, and as soon as he was in the door, he locked it behind him and began to strip. Tossing his clothes carelessly on the floor, he turned on the shower and stuck his head under the near-boiling water. He didn’t know how long he stood there, the shower spray agitating his bruised skin, but it was long enough that by the time he got out, his stomach was demanding dinner.

He ignored it and dug around in his cabinets for the bruise cream he’d pilfered from the medbay in the first few weeks he’d been here. It was hard to get all the spots that needed it, but he refused to leave his room to seek help. He gave it a few minutes to sink in as he sat on the edge of his bed, cleaning his knife, before tossing it under his pillow, shutting off the lights, and curling up on his side, back pressed to the wall.

A few minutes away from slipping into what would no doubt be a restless sleep, someone knocked on his door. He wanted to ignore it, at first, but it was persistent. After a few moments, Hunk called through the door, “Hey, man. You, uh, missed dinner. I brought you some. I’d really like for you to take it instead of me leaving it out here. Just so I know you got it and it’s not gonna get eaten by the mice instead. Or your dog. Does your dog like space goo? Probably not, it’s not exactly meat-based. And it’s not good. Like, at all. But I didn’t have enough time to whip up something better, so it’s what we got. Makes you think back to the good ol’ days, huh? Back when we were all young and bright-eyed and--”

Keith lunged for the door and opened it. Hunk flinched back a bit at his irritated glare, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to feel very bad about it. “If I take the goo, will you leave me alone?”

Hunk slowly relaxed out of his defensive position, food goo held slightly to the side as if to protect it from Keith’s anger. “Um. Maybe…? Only one way to find out, right?” He hesitantly held the plate out.

Keith snatched it, a bit of food goo flying off and splattering to the floor, but he didn’t care. Right as he was about to press the button to close and lock his door again, however, Hunk said, “Listen, I’m sorry about Lance.”

That got Keith to pause for just a second. “What?”

“You, uh, left the comms on during that fight in the ship, remember? The team kinda heard every bit of it. A-and I just wanted to say, I agree with you. Lance was being kinda reckless... But at the same time, I get why he’s upset with you. And since it’s probably gonna take a while for him to say it himself, I’m sorry about Lance.”

Keith stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Hunk took that as a sign to continue rambling. “Look, I know that Lance can get really defensive about stuff and seem like he’s arrogant or whatever, but it’s not for the reasons you think. He just... he thinks he has to prove his worth to people, _constantly_ , in order to be worth the trouble, and a lot of times, he puts that above his own health and safety.

“Like, back at the Garrison, for example. He was there on a really exclusive merit scholarship, so he would literally work himself to _sickness_ to get good grades. Even without that kind of pressure, he probably would’ve done it, just to show his parents that it was worth all the trouble and money to send him to such a prestigious school. On top of that, he would always get caught up in the class rankings, and when he didn’t do as well as he wanted to, he’d either work himself even harder or get into a funk for a few days. It was really bad sometimes.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Keith asked, completely lost.

“I’m getting there! Everything got even _worse_ when you disappeared. Before, he was always happy to have a light-hearted rivalry with you, even if I don’t think you ever even noticed, but when you disappeared, all anyone could do was compare him to you. You were, like, number one without even _trying_. Lance couldn’t catch up to you in basically anything, least of all the simulator runs, and even when you got kicked out, people kept reminding him of that. He was really jealous of you. And I think some part of him still is.”

“Jealous?” Keith repeated dubiously. Hunk nodded. “Of _me.”_ He nodded again. Keith snorted. “Yeah, right. I was a friendless loser, Hunk. Nobody wanted to be around me except Adam and Shiro.”

“Yeah, but-- Wait. Adam? Who’s Adam?”

“Shiro’s ex-boyfriend.” He paused. “Well, actually, I think Adam proposed a few months before Kerberos, so _technically_ they’re ex-fiancees.”

“Shiro has an _ex-fiancee?!”_

Keith rolled his eyes and hauled Keith into his room by his sleeve. “If you’re gonna keep screaming, you might as well get in here.” He gestured awkwardly to the bed. “Sit, or whatever. I’ll tell you about Adam later. But we were talking about Lance.”

Hunk looked ready to explode with questions, but he nodded, sat down, and continued. “...Anyways, Lance didn’t care about whether or not you had a ton of friends, though. Well, I mean, he _did_ , but it was more like he wanted to be your friend without even _knowing_ he wanted to be your friend. On the surface, he just cared about your grades and simulator scores. He thought you were basically perfect, and he always compared himself to you and got depressed and angry when he thought he didn’t measure up. This solo mission, I think, was a way for him to prove that he could do things on his own. Then _you_ showed up and wouldn’t let him go alone and accidentally ruined everything, and now…”

“Now he hates me,” Keith finished flatly. He put the plate of food goo down on his dresser before he could ‘Galra out’ again and accidentally shatter it with how tightly he was clenching his fists. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against it.

“Not exactly,” Hunk assured. “But, uh... He’s definitely upset with you. Even _after_ that whole ‘you’re too important to lose’ thing.”

“So what do _you_ suggest I do? You’re his best friend, right? Help me out.”

Hunk held up his hands. “Hey, dude, as much as I want to, I can’t. This is _your_ guys’ problem to figure out, not mine. And if I told you what to do, Lance would see through you right away and be even _more_ mad. I just came here to offer you some outside perspective. And food.”

Keith sighed, and Hunk patted the spot on the bed next to him. After a second, Keith took it. Hunk’s arm found its way around his shoulder, and he tensed for just a moment before relaxing. Hunk just had that effect on people, even on the more touch-adverse like Keith.

“So Lance is upset with me because he thinks I don’t trust his abilities and I stole what was supposed to be _his_ spotlight on this solo mission,” Keith summarized miserably.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And I have no chance of making him _not_ mad at me.”

“Hey, now, I didn’t say _that_. You still _definitely_ have a chance, dude. For as much as Lance is angry at you, you’re still his friend. And Lance is _wayyy_ more likely to forgive a friend than he is anyone else.”

_I don’t_ want _to be_ just _a friend,_ Keith thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “Great. So he’ll forgive me... in ten years.”

“He’ll forgive you in less if you just _talk_ to him without it devolving into a shouting match. You’ve already got an in with that really aggressive ‘I care about you’ line that you used earlier. Build off of that and be honest with your feelings. Lance might be a bit unwilling to listen at first, but if you start right out of the gates with an apology, he might be shocked enough to hear you all the way through.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Then keep trying. Don’t give up. I’ll even help you corner him, if you need it. Lance is stubborn, but eventually, his curiosity will win over. That, and he hates being mad at his friends.”

There was that cursed word again. But Hunk’s logic seemed solid. Keith sighed. “Can I talk to him tomorrow? I wanna give him more time to blow off steam, and I think we’re both really tired.”

If Hunk saw through his weak excuse, he didn’t mention it. “Sure thing, man.” He patted Keith on the back and stood. “Eat that food goo and go to sleep. He’ll be a bit more level-headed in the morning, and you can apologize and talk to him then.”

Keith nodded and stood too. “Thanks for the food, Hunk. And the advice.”

“Anytime on both fronts.” He paused. “Look, I know you’re not a big hug person, but this _really_ feels like a hug moment, you know? You’re totally free to turn me down, but--”

Keith walked forward quickly and wrapped his arms around Hunk’s torso. Hunk gasped happily, then scooped him up. It wasn’t as back-breaking as the welcome-back hug he’d gotten last night, but Keith still had to hold back a grunt.

After a moment, he let go and wiped his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry,” he apologized thickly. “This is just kinda a big moment for you, and--”

“I get it, big guy,” Keith said fondly. “Good night.”

“Night,” Hunk sniffled. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You need any more food or advice or hugs or _whatever_ , I’m just a few doors away.”

“Good _night_ , Hunk,” Keith repeated, not unkindly.

The Yellow Paladin laughed and waved as he stepped through the door. It shut behind him with a quiet hiss, and Keith was alone once again, feeling a few pounds lighter than when he’d first arrived back at the ship.

He turned his attention to the plate of goo and picked it up. Even with nostalgia blinders on, it was still pretty awful, but Keith finished the whole thing and set the plate back down on the dresser to wash in the morning. After changing into his pajamas - A.K.A. stripping down to his boxers - Keith laid back down and closed his eyes. It took him a while to get to sleep, still, but surprisingly, his dreams were almost nonexistent.

_“Almost”_ being the key word. He woke up the next day with a bad case of morning wood from the sight of Lance in Outfit #3 again, but it was nothing an embarrassingly-short jerk-off session couldn’t cure. After cleaning himself up and changing, though, he was ready to face the day. And, most importantly, Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title and song lyrics taken from:** "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N' Roses
> 
> **Translations:**  
>  surprisingly, there aren't any! (...i don't think. if you see one i forgot, lemme know and i'll add it here!)
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  fight scenes are hard, but thank GOD i've been re-reading the percy jackson series because it gave me a couple of pointers. the finishing move keith used on bouncer #5 is a real thing used in jiu jitsu! it's called a triangle choke, and while i personally struggled to do it back when i did jiu jitsu, it's a really effective submission. check it out on youtube if you're interested, there's _tons_ of tutorials. also, did the space roofies being antihistamines sound dumb?? i researched what drugs people have used as sedatives in the past, and antihistamines were on the list so,, yeah,,, blame google for cheesy explanations of why space roofies don't work on humans.
> 
> (and before someone calls me out: did i make keith do a triangle choke instead of _basically any other submission_ just so lance had the potential to make a joke about keith's thighs? maybe. maybe not. the next chapter ain't started yet and the outline's pretty loose, so We Shall See.)
> 
> on a more depressing and personal note, i have no idea what's gonna happen in the next few months. i'm gonna be doing online classes since only _one_ of my classes is being offered in-person and my college is letting less than 200 people stay on campus, but i don't know what that's gonna mean for this fic. on one hand, i'll probably have less classwork since i'm definitely not keeping my two animation classes, but like,,,, will i be working? will i be depressed? who knows!! so just try to be patient as i figure out what the fuck this coming semester is gonna look like for me.
> 
> but enough of that depressing shit! stay safe, wear a mask, social distance, and **_please give me kudos and comments and stuff i require constant validation uwu_**


	7. Please Don't Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So you're doing your best to make up with your best-friend-crush, but your relationship is only further complicated by how sexy he is...?_
> 
> (Or: Keith and Lance finally figure out what made the mission go to shit so quickly, they make up, and Keith realizes that maybe it would've been easier to keep avoiding Lance.)

> _How did I become so obnoxious? / What is it about you that makes me act like this? / I’ve never been this nasty / Can’t you tell that this is all just a contest? / The one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest / But baby I don’t mean it / I mean it, I promise / Please don’t leave me_

Breakfast was a rather short and quiet affair. Everyone except for Keith and Krolia seemed determined to act like there wasn’t a very obvious empty spot at the table. Keith barely ate, even though Hunk’s alien pancakes were amazing. His stomach was churning, and it only got worse with every minute Lance was missing.

He grabbed Hunk as they were leaving the dining room to brief upstairs, and thankfully, the tallest Paladin seemed to understand what he wanted to ask without Keith having to say anything.

“He already ate,” he explained. “When I came in to make breakfast, there was already a bowl in the sink. If I had to guess, he’s either hiding in his room or training on the deck.”

“Training?” Keith asked, confused. Training to avoid his teammates was _Keith’s_ M.O., last he checked.

“Yeah. He started copying you not long after you... left,” Hunk chuckled awkwardly. “He spends a lot of free time training. I think he’s lonely, honestly. Me and Pidge have been really caught up in trying to integrate Galran tech with our own and the rest of the Coalition, and Lotor and Allura are pretty busy doing their whole alien magic thing. I think he really needs a friend right now. After he forgives you, could you maybe try to... I don’t know…”

“Fill that void?” Keith offered. “Of course. I was kinda hoping to do that anyways. I missed you guys.”

Hunk’s eyes turned to melted chocolate, hands pressed to his heart. “We missed you too, buddy!” he cried. “Please don’t leave again.”

“I’ll try my best not to,” Keith chuckled, and he did something he hadn’t done in a long time: initiate a hug. It was a bit stiff and awkward since Keith didn’t really know what he was doing, but Hunk didn’t seem to care one bit. At least this time, Hunk seemed to remember that Keith’s bones were a bit more fragile than he gave them credit for and didn’t squeeze him hard enough to pop his ribs.

Hunk let go first, thankfully keeping Keith from wondering how long he had to hold on before it got weird, and lightly pushed him towards the training decks. “You’ve got a few minutes before Allura starts the briefing. Go see if Lance is in the training room. He’ll _definitely_ be at the meeting, and I’ll help you catch him before he darts off again if you need me to.”

Keith nodded, his stomach roiling harder than ever, and he marched away like he was going to the execution block. _It’s just Lance,_ he told himself. _You’re being nervous for no reason. It’s ridiculous._ Oddly enough, that didn’t really help.

What would he even _say?_ Right now, he just wanted to explain how helpless and scared he had felt when he saw Daarvus slip him that antihistamine. If Lance was still mad, he would apologize. His main goal was to stay calm, not get defensive, and not let on how jealous and possessive he had also felt while watching Daarvus flirt with Lance. He would keep this 1,000,000% platonic; there would be no hints of his true feelings. No siree, not at all.

That became a lot harder when he walked into the training room and saw, yeah, Lance was definitely here and training, like Hunk had thought, except not in the way that Keith had expected. For one, the drones were nowhere to be seen. Normally, they buzzed around Lance’s head like pesky flies, waiting to be shot down as they fired small bolts of taser-like energy at him, but instead, Lance was almost nose-to-nose with a gladiator bot.

Even _more_ surprisingly, he was parrying the gladiator’s blows with the red-and-white broadsword that Keith had seen him using during the club fight. Now that he wasn’t getting the shit beat out of him by a gang of angry bouncers, Keith could appreciate how impressive Lance’s new sword was.

It was crazy enough that Lance had two forms of his bayard - his signature blaster and then later, a sniper rifle - when everyone else only had one, but this wasn’t even a gun. It was a completely new weapon, and Lance wielded it well for someone who couldn’t have had it for longer than a month or so. Keith would’ve _known_ if he’d had it before, so this _had_ to be a new development, but if that was the case, why had no one told him?

Lance stumbled back as he failed to completely deflect another swipe of the gladiator’s bo staff, and before he could recover or the gladiator could take advantage of the huge opening in Lance’s defenses, Keith called out, “End simulation!”

The gladiator slumped like a puppet with cut strings, and the floor swallowed it up. Lance looked over at him, and as soon as he saw who it was, his expression darkened. He clenched his jaw, and his sword shrunk back into the Red Bayard.

Keith opened his mouth to apologize, or maybe say hi, or maybe ask about the sword, but before he could, Lance began to walk closer. For a second, Keith was worried he would get slapped again, but Lance merely brushed past him and continued to one of the metal benches bolted to the wall by the exit. He scooped up a small duffel bag of stuff, slung it over his shoulder, and left.

Keith blinked and realized that he should probably follow. “Lance, wait!” he called as he jogged after the Red Paladin, but the long-legged figure at the end of the hall made no sign of hearing him or slowing down. “Lance!”

He broke into a run, then a sprint as it became obvious Lance was _literally_ running away from him. He caught up rather quickly - he’d always been faster than Lance, after all - but when his hand caught on Lance’s wrist, he merely twisted out of Keith’s grip. His glare silently promised murder if Keith tried that again, so he held up his hands as placatingly as he could. He was breathing heavily, probably from running, but some small part of Keith’s mind thought that maybe that was because he was angry too.

“I just want to apologize,” Keith explained as calmly as he could. “I shouldn’t have interrupted your mission like that.”

“No,” Lance agreed sharply, “you shouldn’t’ve.”

“So I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

Keith blinked, feeling a bit of defensive anger riling up. He shoved it down. “What?”

Lance turned to face him fully and seemed to straighten. He was puffing up slightly, almost like an angry cat, and normally, Keith would’ve snorted at the image. Instead, still armed with his bayard and dressed in his armor and a quietly furious expression, Lance struck a surprisingly intimidating figure. Keith didn’t back down, though.

“I said, _no_ , you’re _not_ sorry,” Lance growled. “You don’t think that what you did was wrong. In fact, I bet that if you could do it again, you would.”

Keith bit his tongue to impulsively blurt out a “no, I wouldn’t!” just to be argumentative and placating all at once. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling,” Lance muttered. He shouldered his bag. “Look, just leave me alone. Focus on more important things, like trying to find a better lead for Kuron.”

He began to walk away. Keith followed. Thankfully, this time, Lance seemed to know better than to run. Instead, he simply walked faster and ignored Keith when he matched Lance stride-for-stride.

“I’ll do that later. For right now, I wanted to make up with you.”

“Why? Why does _me_ being mad at you matter? It’s not going to get in the way of Voltron, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Voltron is the furthest thing from my mind right now. I don’t even know if Black will still accept me as the leader.”

“Of course he will, you’re still as infuriating as you’ve always been!”

The last of Keith’s patience snapped with an almost audible noise. “Fine! You know what, you’re _right_. I’m _not_ that sorry for trying to save you! Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, but in the moment, I thought you were in danger. I’m not going to apologize for being _worried_ about you. If anything, it’s _your_ fault for not communicating with me! If you knew Daarvus would try to drug you and that that drug would be harmless, why wouldn’t you _tell me?!”_

“Because I knew you would try to stop me! I wasn’t 100% sure space roofies are harmless to humans, and if I told you that, you would’ve stopped me! You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, you know that? Like _you_ wouldn’t’ve done the _same exact fuckin’ thing_ if you were in my shoes!”

“You’re right, I _would’ve_ done the same thing!”

“Then why are _you_ getting angry at _me?!”_

“Because if I died getting this information, it wouldn’t matter!”

“Yes, it would! If you died, I’d-- I’d--!”

For once, Lance McClain had trouble finding words. It was a rare sight. Usually Keith reveled in it, knowing that it was a sign of defeat, that he had won whatever petty argument they were just having, but this _wasn’t_ a petty argument. This meant something. And worse, Lance was crying.

He’d probably been crying for a while now, and Keith had just been too caught up in his pointless anger to see it. But the salt stains on his freckled cheeks were plain as day, as were the fat, miserable tears trailing slowly down them. His eyes sparkled, but they were dark and hard to read. He could see anger and fear and sorrow, all wrapped up into one pretty package. Because _of course_ , Lance was a pretty, Hollywood crier with not a drip of mucus or an ugly wrinkle in sight.

“I hate you,” Lance whispered, his voice barely strained. “You and your stupid, self-sacraficing, hypocritical _bullshit_. You’d kill yourself for this team, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Keith replied without hesitation. “I’d kill myself a million times if it meant keeping the team safe. And that includes you.”

Lance looked away, but Keith pressed forward, literally. He leaned in until Lance was forced to look back at him, and when he caught Lance’s eye, he swallowed thickly as Lance studied him. Something feather-soft seemed to join the maelstrom in his eyes after a few moments, and he let out a quiet, shaky sigh. His eyes fluttered shut, and a few more tears squeezed out.

“You’re such an idiot,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound as angry. Keith counted it as a win. “I never asked you to die for me.”

“You didn’t have to. I already wanted to.”

The skin around Lance’s cheeks slowly darkened. _He’s blushing,_ Keith realized. _Shit. He’s making it really hard to not kiss him._

Lance’s shoulders slumped. “Let me rephrase that: I don’t _want_ you to die for me.” He looked up at Keith. That feather-soft thing in his eyes was now all that Keith could see, and it was making his body feel like it was made of cotton. “You’re... you’re more important than you give yourself credit for, Keith. If you died, the team would be heartbroken, a-and so would I. We don’t want you to die, and saying that you would so easily is... it’s really worrying.”

It was Keith’s turn to look away. “I’m not suicidal,” he snapped.

“Maybe not, but you also don’t seem to understand how important you are to us.”

“Well, _you’re_ important to the team too.” _And everything to me,_ he added silently. “You should’ve told me what you were planning to do.”

Lance looked like he wanted to argue, but he bit his lip and looked away. He let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right, I should’ve. I’m being pretty hypocritical too. I was just… I was so focused on getting that information for you that I pulled a _you_ and didn’t communicate with the team.”

Keith smiled wryly. “Yeah, well. I’m gonna try to be better about that, now that I know you guys care so much. Can you do the same?”

Lance shrugged and smiled wryly back. “Sure. S’only fair.”

Keith felt a weight lifting from his chest. He hadn’t even realized that it was there, but now that it was gone, he felt like he was floating. “So... We’re good?”

Lance laughed. It sounded genuine, and Keith had missed the sound immensely. “Yes, Keith, we’re good. I’m still a little mad, but…” He shrugged. “Not really. And I’m not mad at _you_ , specifically, but just... in general. I just wanted that mission to go better than it did.”

Keith nodded. “I understand,” he said. “And I’m sorry I played a major part in ruining it.”

“Hey, don’t take _all_ the credit, Samurai. You were only stupid because _I_ was stupid first,” Lance joked with a wink.

Keith fought back a blush and pointed up at the ceiling. “We should probably get going before Pidge makes an announcement--”

As if summoned (and considering what a demon she could be at times, Keith wouldn’t be surprised if she was), the intercom crackled above them. _“Sorry to interrupt your lovers’ spat, Klance, but get your asses up here. The meeting’s starting, and we need Lance to give us the rundown.”_

Hunk’s voice started to say something, but the intercom clicked, and they were left in silence. Keith looked back down at Lance, who was already walking away, the tips of his ears flushed darker than usual.

“What’s ‘Klance’?” Keith asked cluelessly as he followed him.

“Keith plus Lance equals Klance,” Lance explained briskly. They stopped in front of an elevator, and Lance jabbed the button harder than he needed to. “Kind of like how Pidge and Hunk started calling themselves Punk. But ‘Klance’ is stupid. Why not... I dunno, ‘Laith’? It’s a better combination, and it sounds cooler too.”

Keith shrugged. “I mean. Yeah.” It didn’t really matter to him, either way, but _Lance_ did.

Lance glanced at him as the elevator doors slid shut and they began to ascend. “You don’t really get it, do you?” he asked, lips twitching teasingly.

“No,” Keith grumbled. “It’s like the ‘Voltron’ chant all over again.”

“So you _admit_ you were doing it wrong!” Lance crowed, suddenly vindicated.

Keith threw his hands up. “It just makes more sense to just say ‘Voltron’! That’s a good chant, too!”

Lance laughed, quiet but bright. His old self was creeping back, bit by bit, now that they were done being angry at each other. “Whatever. I guess you wouldn’t be you if you understood things like ship names.”

“What do _boats_ have to do with any of this?” Keith asked, more confused than ever.

Lance simply grinned and shook his head. He hesitated for just a moment, smile wavering as he considered something important, but before he could open his mouth to hopefully explain whatever had gone over Keith’s head, the doors slid open to reveal the hallway to the bridge. Exchanging a quick look, they sped-walked towards the double doors.

As expected, the whole team was already there: including Krolia, Keith’s space wolf, and (to Keith’s displeasure) Lotor. The prince-turned-emperor stood right next to Allura, smiling slightly as he watched her annoyed, twitching eyebrow. Keith immediately joined Krolia’s side, and to his surprise, Lance followed him; though he still cast Krolia a slightly wary glance and positioned himself so that Keith would be standing between them. Even if Lance obviously wasn’t sure about how to act around Keith’s mom, it was comforting to feel his presence so close by, like how it used to be.

“Sorry about that,” Lance apologized, chuckling nervously as he caught Allura’s eyebrow twitch. “Keith and I... needed to catch up a bit.”

Pidge snorted loudly, but Lance ignored her and continued. “So, uh. Now that we’re all here... I guess I should tell you all what I managed to get out of Daarvus,” he coughed. “To be honest, it wasn’t much. Daarvus was a lot more interested in _other_ stuff, and our conversation didn’t last very long before he skipped right to trying to drug me.”

Keith noticed that he pointedly avoided talking about what had happened immediately _after_ that, and part of him was glad. It was embarrassing enough that the team had heard their argument in the shuttle; they didn’t need to rehash what had happened to lead up to it.

“I think he was starting to get suspicious, too. The only useful thing I managed to get out of him was that a black-and-white haired human man is rumored to be trying to find passage to the Rodina Quadrant. My guess is, that’s where Haggar and her squad is hiding out.”

Allura and Lotor’s eyes widened. “Are you sure that’s what he said?” Allura demanded.

“Pretty sure, yeah. Why? What’s in the Rodina Quadrant?”

It took Keith a second to translate the Galran word, and by his side, Krolia stiffened.

“Diabazaal,” Lotor answered grimly, proving Keith’s hunch correct. “Or, at least, what _used_ to be Diabazaal, before... well, before the Alteans were said to have destroyed it.”

“That’s _not_ what happened!” Lance snapped immediately.

Lotor grimaced. “I know. But that’s what we were always led to believe.” He looked around at all of them, expression strangely hopeful. “Maybe you could tell me what _really_ happened.”

“Well... after the trans-reality comet crashed onto Diabazaal’s surface and opened the rift, your father and mother began to research it,” Allura began slowly. “However, when a dark creature tried crossing through, _my_ father built Voltron to combat it and close the rift. By that time, your parents had already started to get corrupted - either by their own curiosity or by the quintessence leaking through the rift, I don’t know. Regardless, by the time Voltron was complete, your mother had gone insane and... and died from exposure to the rift.”

Lotor’s face was remarkably composed for someone being told all the gritty details of how his mother had died, his father had become the evil tyrant he’d eventually had to kill, and his planet had been destroyed. The only sign that he was upset was his hands, clenched into tight, shaking fists. Allura noticed this too and rested her hand against his elbow.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I... I don’t have to tell the rest of the story if you don’t--”

“No,” Lotor interrupted quickly. “No, I need to know. I’m not so... compromised that I can’t hear everything.”

Allura looked reluctant, but she continued. “Well... The time eventually came for Voltron to face down the dark creatures coming through the rift. Zarkon, however, tricked the other Paladins into making the rift _bigger_ , rather than closing it, so he could expose Honerva to the pure quintessence in the void between realities. He seemingly died from over-exposure, and the other Paladins had to evacuate Diabazaal before the rift could keep expanding and swallow the whole planet. As soon as the last Galran was gone, Voltron... Voltron destroyed it, turning it into the lifeless corpse it is now.”

She smiled wryly. “So I suppose, in a way, the Alteans _did_ destroy Diabazaal. Just not for the reasons Zarkon used to justify his ten-thousand year campaign of war.”

Lotor took a deep breath and nodded. “And now... Now the witch wants to use Diabazaal for some new, nefarious purpose.”

“Actually, I don’t think it’s much of a _new_ purpose,” Pidge interrupted. “I think it’s safe to assume she still wants to reopen the rift and harvest whatever’s on the other side. The only question is _how_. How does she expect to open the rift? Only something made from the trans-reality comet - like Voltron - would be strong enough to do that. But she threw away her chance to use Voltron when she exposed Kuron, so now what’s her plan? Just sit there and _wait_ for us to show up to kick her ass?”

“Maybe,” Keith admitted. “If we went after her, we’d be bringing Voltron.”

“Yeah, but we wouldn’t open the rift for her,” Pidge shot back. “Even if she... even if she killed us, the Lions wouldn’t accept just _any_ new Paladin, especially if they were just gonna turn around and doom the universe.”

Allura nodded. “Exactly. The Lions were made to protect, and they will only accept those who will likewise preserve the safety of the universe.”

“What about the Sincline ships?” Lance asked suddenly, glaring at Lotor. “They were made from the second comet, right? Same as Voltron.”

Lotor blinked. “I-- Well, yes. They were. But they are still incomplete. Only two of them are ready, and while the Princess and I have been working on the third, we’ve set it aside to focus on getting your friend back.”

“We still have them, right?” Keith asked. He felt very out of the loop and was still struggling to see Lotor as an ally, rather than a particularly slippery, hard-to-pin-down enemy.

“Yes,” Lotor assured. “It is still safely locked in Hangar Thirteen.”

“And the other two?”

“They are being kept at _Slavnaya Pobeda_ , guarded day and night by my Generals.”

“Glorious victory?” Keith translated mostly to himself, confused.

“It’s the big honking ship we infiltrated to save Allura the first time we beat Zarkon,” Lance leaned over to whisper. “It’s actually pretty cool. We spent some time there after Lotor became emperor and got to hang out with some soldiers who _didn’t_ want to kill us. Oh, and Pidge rewired one of the sentries to be _fun_.”

His eyes suddenly got misty, and he sniffed. Bringing his fist to his chest, he softly beat his fist against his heart, the Galran salute for a fallen comrade. “Only the stars know where he is now…”

Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to ask about that, so he turned his attention back to the more important conversation.

“Either Haggar’s lost it, or she’s planning on stealing the Sincline ships,” Pidge was saying. “As soon as we get Kuron back, we’ll need to figure out what her plan is and stop her before she can destroy the whole universe.”

“Agreed,” Allura said. “As much as I would like to stop her now, we’ve kept Shiro waiting long enough. Pidge, Hunk, Coran: do you think you could start searching for Kuron on ships heading to the Rodina Quadrant?”

Hunk and Pidge nodded, and Coran puffed up proudly. “Of course, Princess!” he chirped, practically skipping over to his station. Pidge and Hunk were quick to follow, eyes narrowed as they no doubt already started brainstorming. “Why, I already have a few ideas on how we can--”

Keith tuned him out and looked back at Allura. “And the rest of us?”

She frowned, considering. “The best thing for us to do would be to stay where we are. The Sincline ships are only useful when fully combined, so it would be best to keep the ship we have here separate from the two stored on _Slavnaya Pobeda_. That way, we can at least lower the chances of Haggar being able to successfully steal all three.”

Keith didn’t like the idea of sitting around, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for their enemy’s next move, but he knew Allura had a point. Guarding Lotor’s flagship while also holding the last piece Haggar needed would be a bad idea. He nodded and looked over at the trio of techies already deep in discussion, spouting words that barely registered as English or Galran to Keith. He wouldn’t be much help to their search, either. It looked like for the next few _vargas_ , if not _quintants_ , he would have nothing productive to do.

Lance suddenly cleared his throat. Curiously, Keith looked over and felt his eyes narrow warily as he saw the expression on the Red Paladin’s face. Lance pouted back at him. “What?!” he demanded. “I haven’t even _said_ anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Keith deadpanned. “I know your troublemaker face when I see it.”

“Oh, hush! I’m not planning a prank or anything. I just wanted to know if, now that we have some free time…” His cheeks darkened. “Do you want to train with me?”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just-- I’ve been meaning to get better with my sword, but Allura’s been so busy that she hasn’t been able to show me anything, and the gladiator can only show me so much, you know? But if you don’t have time to train with me, then that’s fine, I just thought since you probably need to blow off some steam too--”

“I’d love you,” Keith blurted. Lance stared at him for a moment, face flushing more, and with a start, Keith rushed to correct himself. “I-I mean--! I’d love to do that _with_ you.”

The two stayed quiet for a moment, equally flustered and blushing, until Krolia scoffed quietly. She smirked at the two of them and said to Keith, _“I vy somnevayetes v yego chuvstvakh k vam.”_

Keith glared at her smug face. _“Nenavizhu tebya,”_ he hissed.

She let out a sharp bark of laughter. _“Ty mne ugrozhayesh? Ty strashnyy kak shchenok.”_

Keith growled. He’d been getting better at growling like a Galran, but his human vocal cords limited him. They hadn’t been made to make such sounds, so it didn’t sound as intimidating to Krolia as it would’ve to, say, Lance, who was suddenly very red and wide-eyed. He almost felt bad, but Krolia interrupted him.

“Fine, I will be quiet now,” she muttered. Looking past him, her smirk only grew wider. “Now go. _Vash paren’ vyglyadit neterpelivym.”_

Keith flushed. _“On mne ne paren’!”_

Krolia laughed and walked off. Keith’s space wolf watched her leave for just a second before his attention, like Keith’s, turned to Lance. The Latino boy was still very flushed, but he seemed to have gotten over the wide-eyed terror he’d displayed when Keith had growled at his mother.

“Guess even _space_ families still have family arguments, huh?” he joked weakly.

The wolf trotted over to Lance and began to demand pets. Lance rolled his eyes but leaned down to scratch his ears, smiling. The wolf’s tail wagged lazily, and Keith found himself feeling a little jealous of him. Being the center of Lance’s attention and affection was something _Keith_ wanted too, not to mention the appealing fantasy of Lance’s hands in Keith’s hair.

Lance looked up at Keith, a bit less red-faced now. “So, uh... You good with training with me, then?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

Lance grinned and stood up, much to the wolf’s disapproval. “Nice! So, uh. Do you wanna go now or later?”

“Now works.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Lance turned awkwardly and led the way out of the bridge, Keith and his wolf trailing close behind him. They were silent all the way back down to the deck except for Lance’s baby-talk on the elevator when he took advantage of standing still to pet the wolf some more. As soon as they stepped off, however, the wolf disappeared, probably sensing that he wouldn’t be getting any more pets and disappearing to find them elsewhere.

“So, what did you name that little angel?” Lance asked, the soft grin he’d been wearing for the wolf still lingering on his lips.

“Oh, I didn’t. He hasn’t told me his name yet,” Keith said.

Lance stopped short, and Keith hesitated a few steps ahead of him. “He... hasn’t told you,” Lance repeated flatly. His face was carefully neutral.

Keith shook his head slowly.

“Your _wolf_ hasn’t told you what he wants to be named.”

Another head shake.

“Can your wolf talk, Keith?”

“Not out loud,” Keith said. “But he’s intelligent. I can tell.”

“Most wolves are. But they don’t go around telling people what their name is.”

“He’s _different_ from Earth wolves,” Keith defended hotly.

“Yeah, because he’s _blue_ and can _teleport_ and is an _alien_. Not because he can somehow communicate well enough to tell someone his name, let alone intelligent enough to make up one in the first place!”

“How do _you_ know that?”

Lance sighed and pinched his brow. “Because, Keith, if he could tell you what his name was, he would’ve told you already. You’ve spent _two whole years_ with him, don’t you think it’s weird he hasn’t told you yet?”

“Maybe he didn’t trust me.”

“Why wouldn’t he trust you after _two years_ of spending time together?!”

“I don’t know, I’m not a wolf!”

“Exactly! So _why_ do you think he’d be able to talk to you?!”

“I don’t know!”

The two glared at each other for a moment, but then suddenly Lance was doubling over, laughing louder and lovelier than Keith had heard in a long time, even discounting the two years of displaced time. Against his will, Keith joined in, and soon, they were just two dumbasses laughing hysterically in a random, empty hallway.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” Lance wheezed after a solid minute of laughing. “You’ve always been a weird one, Kogane.”

“You’re one to talk, McClain,” Keith shot back, but he was grinning wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

Lance let out another quiet giggle and stared at Keith with a fond smile. “It’s _Marino_ -McClain, actually,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“My full, legal name is Leandro Alexander Marino-McClain,” Lance revealed. “But basically everyone’s always called me Lance, even my family, and Marino-McClain was a mouthful, so all the instructors at the Garrison shortened it to McClain. Hence, why everyone calls me Lance McClain instead of Leandro Marino-McClain, like they technically should.”

Keith turned that over in his head. Lance’s name suited him, what with his long, thin body and sharp wit, but he’d always thought it was weird that a boy who grew up in a Spanish-speaking country had such an American name. And his given name, Leandro...

“I like it,” Keith declared. He smiled teasingly. “Should I start calling you Leandro, now?”

Lance laughed, but his cheeks seemed to darken. “Nah. I’ve gotten so used to being Lance that it’d be weird. Besides, the only people who ever call me Leandro are usually _really_ angry at me. I’ve basically been trained to run the other way when someone calls me Leandro.”

Keith laughed along quietly, and they started walking towards the deck again. After a moment, Keith broke the easy silence. “My middle name’s Akira.”

Lance looked surprised for a second, then he repeated the name. “Keith Akira Kogane. Hmm. I like it!”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Look at us, Leandro and Akira, taking on the universe together. Sounds _way_ cooler than _Lance_ and _Keith_.”

“Maybe. But I don’t mind being named Keith. Especially considering my mom almost named me _Yorak_.”

Lance made a face. _“Yorak?_ Ugh. Yeah. ‘Keith’ is so Southern it hurts, but imagine how much you’d get bullied if your name was _Yorak_.”

“I already got bullied plenty,” Keith laughed humorlessly, “but yeah. Being named Yorak wouldn’t make it any easier.”

Lance glanced at him, and Keith fought the urge to bristle when he saw the pity in Lance’s eyes. “It’s fine,” he assured quickly. “I didn’t care then, and I don’t really care now.”

Lance didn’t seem so convinced, but thankfully, they arrived at the training deck and switched their focus to getting ready to spar.

Lance immediately dropped his duffel by the bench and walked out into the room a few paces to start stretching. It was hard not to stare, especially when he was wearing a blue tank-top and a pair of black shorts that showed off less skin than Outfit #3 had last night, but still more than Keith was used to seeing.

Swallowing thickly, Keith looked away and copied Lance’s poses. Almost immediately, though, Lance frowned and stood up straight again. “Shit. I forgot to ask if you wanted to change.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Keith assured. “I can train in this.”

Lance glared at him. “You’re not training in jeans and a flannel, Keith. You’ll get all gross and sweaty and die of heatstroke.”

“I wouldn’t die of heatstroke,” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe not, but you’ll still get all gross and sweaty. Here.” He walked over to his duffel bag and dug through it for a moment before tossing something at Keith. When he unfolded it, he realized they were black shorts, not unlike the ones Lance was wearing right then. “Go to the bathroom and change into them.”

“Lance, I really don’t need--” Keith tried to say, but Lance cut him off with a glare. He sighed, not really wanting to get into another argument and crossed the room to the adjacent locker room.

It was pretty small, since this training deck was probably meant only for a small, elite force of fighters, but it still had enough space for a few sinks, toilet stalls, a small wall of lockers, and a communal shower area. The Paladins rarely used it except to go to the bathroom, but there had been a few times that they’d taken advantage of the showers when they were too tired or sweaty to drag themselves up to the private ones attached to their rooms. Keith had never joined; on paper, it was because he wasn’t as tired as the others, but in practice, it was because even before he fully realized how deep his feelings for Lance ran, he knew that seeing the then-Blue Paladin naked would _not_ end with everyone’s dignity intact.

Keith pushed those thoughts aside and didn’t even bother hiding away in a stall before stripping off his flannel and jeans, leaving him in his borrowed shorts and a grey t-shirt. Satisfied with the slightly-baggy shorts, even if he still thought they were unnecessary, he folded up his discarded clothes and walked back out into the training deck.

Near the middle of the space, Lance was shifting through some simple yoga poses. Keith tried his best not to watch as he dropped his clothes off next to Lance’s duffel, but it was hard not to when Lance rocked his hips back into downward dog, then apparently decided it wasn’t stretching his calves enough and dropped down to his forearms.

As if _that_ wasn’t bad enough, Lance glanced briefly at him, smirked, and then kicked his legs up into a handstand, though he was still balancing on his forearms. After a few seconds, he slowly arched his back and bent his legs, turning his body into a near-perfect C-shape with his feet hovering just a few inches above his own head.

Keith felt the crotch of his borrowed shorts shift, and suddenly he realized he couldn’t do this. Lance was unintentionally enticing at the best of times, but that was when he was just standing around or talking or cracking a joke. If he started panting and sweating and getting in Keith’s personal space with that determined expression he wore when he set his sights on something, Keith would probably get rock-hard and give himself away in seconds.

“I just realized Krolia needed my help with something,” Keith blurted out as Lance glanced back at him, still smirking. It disappeared rather quickly after Keith’s words, but even if the disappointed look on his face was devastating, Keith couldn’t keep playing along in this dangerous game of heated looks and lingering gazes. “Sorry. I’ll drop your shorts off in your room in a bit.”

Lance dropped out of his handstand and stood as quickly as he could. “Wait, Keith--”

“Sorry,” Keith whispered again, and he ran out of the room before his dick could ruin everything more than Keith already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title and lyrics taken from:** "Please Don't Leave Me" by P!nk
> 
> **Translations, in order of appearance:**  
>  (Note: "Galran" is Russian, "Altean" is [mostly] Welsh. The spellings for the Welsh in the fic is inaccurate for ease of pronunciation. Both were taken from Google Translate and may be inaccurate. Please let me know if this is the case, and I will try to fix it.)  
>  _Rodina_ = Родина = motherland  
>  _Slavnaya Pobeda_ = славная победа = what keith said in the fic! (my unoriginal names just keep hAPPENING--)  
>  _I vy somnevayetes v yego chuvstvakh k vam._ = И вы сомневаетесь в его чувствах к вам. = And you doubt his feelings for you.  
>  _Nenavizhu tebya._ = Ненавижу тебя. = I hate you.  
>  _Ty mne ugrozhayesh? Ty strashnyy kak shchenok._ = Ты мне угрожаешь? Ты страшный как щенок. = Are you threatening me? You're as intimidating as a puppy.  
>  _Vash paren’ vyglyadit neterpelivym._ = Ваш парень выглядит нетерпеливым. = Your boyfriend looks impatient.  
>  _On mne ne paren’!_ = Он мне не парень! = He's not my boyfriend!
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  I'M NOT DEAD!! i just had to completely rework the rest of the fic because keith and lance's argument didn't turn out the way i originally planned it to. and i might have to rework it again because i'm an indecisive bitch wHO KNOWS! also online classes and working at the same time means i have no time to see my friends which is making me :( and not want to work on stuff
> 
> the whole lekira thing that happened a while back proved to me that klance's names would've been _so_ much better if they'd actually been leandro and akira so now their names are actually leandro and akira. (middle name for keith but still!) the name reveal, as self-indulgent and kinda trivial as it is, will become important in the epilogue (if i finish it, that is). *insert many eye emojis*
> 
> also, i promised my beta i'd say this so: LOTOR DESERVED BETTER. she and i WILL throw hands with the writers for doing him and allura so dirty in canon. i also added some actual canon-inspired events to imply next chapter's plot (yes, it'll actually have one of those! i'm just as surprised as you!!) and to give people an idea of how i wished canon had actually gone regarding lotor and all that jazz. i'm not entirely sure if it's any good, but whatever, y'all came here for klance and so did i so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> uhh idk what else to say other than how much i love you guys and how excited i am to finish this fic and bring my total number of finished, multi-chapter fics up to two! **_please leave me comments and kudos and shit it's the only thing that validates my klance obsession existing into the year of our lord 2020_**

**Author's Note:**

> first multi-chapter fic since _tatb(ag)ilb_ with a too-long, nigh-unable-to-be-remembered title? let's fuckin go, babes B)


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